Tying Up Loose Ends COMPLETE
by Myshkin
Summary: Vash has tried to deal with his brother on his own to save others, but now it’s beyond even his abilities. When will he learn that one rarely has a say over what people will do for the ones they care about? Post-Anime, Manga Influences, OCs, & Cursing.
1. Emancipation and Proclamations

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Author's Note: This fan fic pretty much takes off where the anime leaves off, but because I'm such a huge fan of the manga, which is still alive and kicking, I took some aspects from it, namely that Wolfwood is alive. If anything else isn't kosher with the anime, it's probably manga-related or of my own imagination. This is my first post, so I hope you enjoy!  
  
Your "prince", Myshkin  
  
P.S. - Oh yeah, keeping the Wolfwood/Milly nookie just because I can. ^_^ And pardon the swearing and violence. I don't know if it's PG-13 in accordance to today's numb and disillusioned youth, but to cover my behind, I made it as such.  
  
Tying up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Emancipation and Proclamations  
  
He awoke with a start, realizing that he was in deep shit. His brother was long gone already, but he needed to see it to believe it. Jumping from the chair outside of Knive's door, Vash tried to unlock, unhook, unfasten, and unbolt the door as fast as possible, urging his fingers to go a bloody bit faster. Vash stumbled through the doorway to see, in a faint patch of moonlight draped across the bed, bandages with long-dried blood blackening them in the near darkness. The window stood open but no breeze stirred the curtains.  
  
Vash swore and ran downstairs to his room. He knew Knives was in no condition to fight, so that was probably the only reason why Vash had been left unharmed for the time being. Knives had been calling for his brother's torture and death in his fevered state since Vash had taken on the task of protecting humanity from his brother. Not knowing what else to do and not wanting to involve any of his friends (for fear of their safety and reproach, of course) Vash had rented a small house in the tiny town of Ecks. He supported the both of them with a measly part-time salary and managed to aquire drugs, bandages, and eventually tranquilizers from a kind nurse by effectively utilizing his puppy-dog eyes and a tearful story about a poor, invalid brother who was in so much pain that his poor, hard-working self couldn't seem to make enough money to abate it. Of course he tactfully forgot to mention the fact that the poor, invalid brother wanted to witness the death of all humans.  
  
He couldn't let Knives fully recover but he couldn't let him suffer, either, so there in laid Vash's problem. He wasn't the person to figure this out, but he didn't dare involve who was capable of such problem solving. So all he could do was restrain his brother and lock him away during the day so he could go to work, and then come home at night and try to keep Knives entertained, under control, and on the mend, but not too fast. The tranquilizers were for whenever Knives seemed a bit too restless; they had worked well for a while but Vash hadn't counted on his brother aquiring a tolerance to the drugs so quickly.  
  
All in all, it was a life, and most certainly not a happy one. In fact, it really was more of an existence than a life, and Vash was losing patience, hope, and his resolve. Over the past month the numbers of times Vash snuck away from work to play with the children of the town decreased dramatically until he didn't stray at all. No amount of pleading for a game or a wrestling match could stir Vash from his job or his path to and from work. The children would have stormed his house to try to rouse their friend if it weren't for the fact that they were scared of the man they heard yelling upstairs.  
  
On a still day you could hear the rantings of an obviously sick and crazy man on the street below, coming from their tiny house. Everyone in town knew that the simpleton had a brother that never left the house, except for what shouts of his that escaped his room, and no one really wished to mess with the pair. Only the completely open eyes of the children could see the good inside Vash, their sight not yet clouded by a hard life on a hard planet. Still, their love and comradeship wasn't enough for Vash, who after 130 years or so of existence, was finally breaking down.  
  
Knives had the amazing ability to breathe a little bit of life into his brother with his escape. Vash understood the chase, almost enjoyed the chase, but he still worried about what he would do when he came upon his brother again.  
  
"Please let me find him before the ships arrive", he prayed to no deity in particular as he threw what he could in his old duffel bag. It had been seven months since he last needed it, and it replied to his touch with dusty gasps of surprise. Vash knew that Knives knew about the ships from Earth, the ones that had finally been contacted by the people in the ship that never landed, his friends and "family." He also knew that Knives had no plans to let those ships arrive whole and not on fire, if possible.  
  
Vash barreled out the door, bag on his back, gun at his hip, sunglasses shielding his eyes. The only thing that was missing was the red coat, which he left behind not long after the scuffle with Knives. Anyone else watching would only see a blond man in threadbare brown slacks and an equally threadbare white collared shirt, all topped (or should I say bottomed) of with boots that, though they looked worn, didn't look quite like they were bought together with the clothes to make a fetching ensemble. Vash was smart enough to get rid of the signature coat that would tip off bounty hunters (not that many were chasing him any more, after all he had done) but it just didn't feel right without it. He had spent time in hiding before without it, but this time was different.  
  
Vash stood under his brother's old window for a few minutes, trying to figure out how cold the trail was. It was pretty chilly, but at least it gave Vash an idea of which direction to head towards. So off he went, thinking to himself for the third or forth time since he had woken up that he really needed help, but he wouldn't ask for it; this was his problem. Besides, he hadn't seen Wolfwood or the Insurance Girls in months. Who knew where on Gunsmoke they could possibly be?  
  
The towering gunman sighed a large sigh that seemed to take all of his slender frame to do so; it would have almost been comedic to watch. There wasn't much moonlight to follow the trail, but it was better than nothing and Vash had no time to lose. Vash the Stampede strode of into the dark alone.  
  
No one but a stray black cat had witnessed the exit of the $$60 Billion Man from Ecks into the desert, leaving behind Ecks forever.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Myshkin: It's only Chapter 1, I promise it gets more interesting (and longer) than this! Sometimes you just have to set everything up, yah know? 


	2. Roamings and Ravings

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Tying up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Roamings and Ravings  
  
Angelina II rumbled through the desert, the twin suns glaring at her and her rider from their position just over the horizon. Nicholas D. Wolfwood had been trying to follow the reports of where the infamous Human Typhoon had last been seen, but opinion was mixed. As well as leaving behind his trail of destruction minus death, it seemed that Vash had also left behind his equally infamous red coat and had gone into hiding again. Wolfwood puffed on his bent cigarette as his eyes trailed down to the saddle bag behind him. He had found the coat not far from an oasis where a scuffle had occured, but the land had long begun to grow over it and heal itself. From what he could gather, the two brothers had met, fought, and one was the victor, but no one was left behind. Knowing Knives' compassion for Vash and Vash's compassion for everything, Wolfwood couldn't figure out who was who, but at least he could be relatively sure that they were both alive. He had travelled to all the surrounding towns and then the not so surrounding ones, but nothing came up. Wolfwood was at a dead end.  
  
It had been a long time since they had parted ways; Vash had made it evident he was going to face Knives alone and it just happened to turn out that Wolfwood had some skeletons to shove back into the closet in the form of old "friends." Wolfwood protested a little, but both understood that it wouldn't be good for the priest to follow. Wolfwood didn't know if Knives knew that Chapel's loyalty was wavering, although he was pretty sure this fact had been made evident; that sniveling, creepy, nasty, little quadrapelegic Legato seemed to be very on top of things for a guy who spent all his days in a full metal casket. Nicholas didn't feel like dealing with that now, though, so he did what he always did best: dissapear off into the sunset. Wolfwood hadn't heard anything from that side of camp either, and that worried him. They apparently were fine with the fact that the "Master" hadn't checked in for seven months; of course, the "Master" treated them all like insigificant little worms and they probably felt it best to let him do what he wished. There were very few left to care, anymore, what with most of the Gung Ho Guns dispatched to the next world.  
  
"Tongari, where the hell are you," he muttered to himself.  
  
At that precise moment (because, as this story will eventually display, narrative has the best timing) Angelina II let out a few unhealthy knocks and a couple of feeble pings, slowing down until they finally came to a stop. They ended up on a dune over looking a tiny little town that didn't seem to be on any map that Wolfwood possessed; quite honestly, it didn't look like it had any right to be. It looked to be a huddled mass of houses, a general store, a saloon (of course), and a filling station, all laying in the shadow of an old and obviously long defunct plant.  
  
"At least there's a filling station," Wolfwood sighed, "I didn't mean to run you dry, sweetheart."  
  
Wolfwood rolled into town just as the two suns surpassed the horizon. He barely took notice of the busted old sign that read "Welcome to Ecks, Pop. 83."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Can you believe it? They just up and left in the middle of the night, and with the poor invalid brother too weak to travel!"  
  
"They also skipped out on this months rent, I heard."  
  
"No, it was my uncle they were renting from and he said a small pile of cash was left on the table, just enough to finish out the last three months on the lease and then some, apparently, for his troubles. It was odd, though. The simpleton had called upon my uncle about some problem around the house yesterday, hoping Uncle could come and check it out. Rats, I think. Rats take kindly to the old house, it being right next the old well and the market. They seem to love the dry place to live in with food at a paws reach away!"  
  
"Well good riddance if you ask me. They were a creepy pair. One brother you never saw but could always hear cursing and spitting and yowling like an old tom cat if it was quiet enough (and even if it wasn't) and the other was a terrible, spikey-haired punk who was always cutting out of work to play with the kids. He even had an earring! No good, I tell you, no good."  
  
"Aw, you shouldn't be too harsh. Who knows what pain the one was going through and the other obviously couldn't help it; he was probably born that way, the poor thing. When he did work, we was a hard worker, and he seemed to really take as good care of his brother as he could."  
  
"Eh, their gone now."  
  
Wolfwood managed to stop choking on a mix of scotch and his cigarette butt he had inhaled rather suddenly. He couldn't believe after three months of careful tracking he'd roll into a tiny little dump not even twenty-four hours after Vash had rolled out. It was obvious from the saloon gossip that Vash had been the victor of the oasis scuffle but that didn't help Wolfwood much. He didn't know why they left, where they were headed, or if they were even still together. Square one all over again, but at least this square had a relatively fresh trail leading from it. It was also kind of odd that his bike had run out of gas where and when it did, too.  
  
"You work in mysterious ways, that's for sure," he thought with a glance heavenward. Wolfwood finished his scotch and headed out, hoping Angelina II was ready. He'd had the local mechanic give her the once over to make sure she was okay to travel after running on empty. He needed her in top form if he wanted to catch up with Vash.  
  
Of course, the motorcycle wasn't ready, and wouldn't be for another couple of hours, so Wolfwood took advantage of the time to check out where Vash last was. Someone had said the house was right by the market and the old well, and although he'd never been to Ecks before, Wolfwood found it pretty quickly.  
  
A short search of the exterior perimeter proved that they were heading west, one and then a while later, the other. The first set of tracks started with and obvious plummet into the dust. Over that were the tracks of someone who had ran around from the front of the house and then followed them out. Knives apparently hadn't healed all too quickly under Vash's care and decided not to remain there any longer. Knives' trail had begun to fade as the wind picked up throughout the day and Vash's was following suit. They basically struck out due west in the beginning, the both of them, at least until they were out of town. Wolfwood placed a hand above his sunglasses, further shading his eyes from the suns. The wind was picking up and it didn't look good; a sandstorm looked to be on its way. It didn't stand to be the best time to head out into the desert, but time seemed to be pressing now more than ever. The priest decided to take a look inside.  
  
The house was unlocked, small, sparcely furnished, and appeared to be perfectly built to amplify the disturbing sounds of rats scratching and squeeking away in the walls. Barely any food graced the shelves of the refrigerator; Wolfwood helped himself, figuring that no one else had plans to eat it now and it stood free for the taking. From the sound of it, the rats really didn't need anything else to help them grow big, strong, and capable of ripping a tomas in half; they were doing pretty well all by themselves. The downstairs bedroom stood devoid of personal items, as well as the upstairs one. Wolfwood noted the numerous locks, bolts, chains, and so forth on the door to the second floor bedroom. The whole house oozed depressing minimalism; only one thing existed in excess and that was books. Books sat on most available surface, including the floor, all ranging in topic from memoirs to Ancient Russian literature that survived the Fall. Books didn't come cheap, so obviously much of the money Vash made went into entertainment for him and his brother. How sweet.  
  
"There's nothing here that'll help me, Tongari. How come you couldn't leave a decent clue? All that's here worries me," he muttered to himself, lighting up a new cigarette. It would probably be best if he went to see if his baby was ready for the road. With a glance out the window, it looked like Wolfwood would have to rely on a feeble general direction to find the moron. The storm was rising.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Knives wasn't well. Feverish and weak, he stubled across an old cave, barely a hollow in the sands, but it would do. He'd been running/stumbling all night and with the dawning of a new day came a sand storm. Knives knew he was in no condition to fight it. So there Knives rested, drifting in and out of fevered dreams.  
  
He had been healing well until an infection in his leg arose, one that only Vash's antibiotics could cure. They now seemed so far away, but it didn't matter. Knives wouldn't have taken them. He couldn't fight the scenes of the last seven months that danced across his sickened mind and he could make even less sense of it.  
  
They had met at that beautiful oasis, an Eden in the middle of the disgusting wasteland. He couldn't convince his brother with words and actions didn't suffice, either. Vash had the chance to save his precious humans once and for all, and all he did was shoot Knives. He couldn't believe it; little Vash had shot him again! Then came the promises to heal him, help him, make him understand. It was like asking a man who was blind from birth to describe the color red. Knives would never understand his poor, misguided brother and would never love those that could never treat him like a superior being (because, of course, he was superior to all humans.)  
  
Knives ground his teeth together in fury. As angry as he was with his brother, he realized it wasn't Vash's fault for treating him this way. Humans had slowly chipped away at his brother's fragile body and heart. They used up all the plants until they could give no more and then coerced one final, horrifying surge of energy from their spent bodies. Knives had also noticed how black Vash's hair had become in the back, at the roots. His brother had been pushed to use that much energy (Knives conviently forgot that it was him who had forced Vash) and now he was dying; he couldn't allow all of his brother's hair to turn black and lose him forever.  
  
The humans deserved to feel the pain that his people felt. Knives had to stop them. And now more humans were coming from Earth it great ships to rescue those that Knives himself had virtually sentanced to death so long ago. No longer would they evade their end. The spiders had to die and every one of their webs ripped from the land and the sky. And Vash....  
  
Vash would never see. The need to hurt his brother, to pay him back for the past seven months, ebbed but it didn't change the fact that he couldn't let Vash stop him. He would find a nice place to tuck Vash away for awhile, until it rained humans. Yes, all those mean things he'd said to his brother during his captivity, they were just words, not actions. Words could be forgiven so much more readily than actions. He didn't want to lose his brother, not really.  
  
Knives coughed violently for several minutes straight, spattering his lips and the rocks beside him in little crimson spots. He didn't even wipe his mouth, but stared in mild horror at his blood on the ground. He needed power. He needed the other plants; surely he could make them see, make them help. Who else would? Yes, they would help him. They would give him strength.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Myshkin: Pardon any OOCness, I'm doing my best. Both Wolfwood and Knives aren't the easiest characters to write for! Hope you enjoyed this latest installment! 


	3. Disillusions

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Tying up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Disillusions  
  
The storm hit Vash like the stomach flu during the holidays; you expected as much once it was there, but you never saw it coming. Visibility was down to nothing and all chance of Vash finding Knives by following his trail were so much dust. If only he'd paid more attention, he would have known the sand storm was on its way. If only he'd paid more attention, maybe Knives would still be safe with him.  
  
"Safe... With me... right," Vash laughed mirthlessly. Was his brother really safe when he was tied down, doped up, and locked away? Was there no way for Knives to live a normal life and let the humans around him do the same?  
  
Vash was exhausted. His body hurt from the trek, his head hurt from the heat, his face hurt from the buffeting winds, his heart hurt from his sorrow for his brother, and his soul hurt from the weight of all his long years. Nothing, not even the thought of eventually finding Knives again made any of it go away. Once he found Knives, of course, it would start all over again. It was almost too much.  
  
Looking around, Vash numbly realized that he couldn't see where he was any longer. The winds whipped around him, tugging him in one direction first and then in another a second later. Darkness crept along, the suns having long begun their descent. Vash knew he was lucky if he had an hour left of daylight. He worried not so much about that fact but that even once the sun rose again Vash still stood in the same hopeless position.  
  
The group of travelers coming over the dune at that moment put those thoughts on the back burner. Their figures were indistinct, but obviously male and large, all riding on vehicle or beast, Vash couldn't tell.  
  
"Hey guys, am I ever glad to see you!" Vash shouted over the storm, inhaling a mouthful of sand in the process. He hacked and coughed and then shouted again, this time adding arms for emphasis. "Well, I'm glad to see anyone, if not specifically you, seeing as I don't know you, but we can fix that! Can you lend a hand to a lost traveler?"  
  
The grouped moved into view and Vash swallowed his words, chasing them with a pint of dust. He knew on sight they were outlaws, the real kind, not like him. They'd most likely help any traveler out with a bullet to the head after they robbed you blind. There were nine of them, all big and burly and evil-looking. A few of them were missing an eye or a few teeth. The tomases they rode on looked just as hard and faithless as their riders.  
  
"Oh," Vash shouted, pulling out some scrap of paper from his duffel bag, "would you look at that, I found my map! No need for assistance boys, I'll just be moving on!"  
  
As he waved the paper in the air, a bullet cut through it, leaving a hole and a worried Vash. He snorted and turned to run, hand now on the Colt at his side just in case. If it weren't for the howling winds, Vash would have heard the guns as they fired. He seemed to forget to file the fact with his consciousness after the first bullet made a surprise attack on the old Steamer schedule that had the poor luck to masquerade as a map. As it stood, though, Vash was unprepared to dodge the bullet that struck him in the side, lodging there firmly.  
  
Rolling and tumbling awkwardly down the dune, Vash cursed himself again for not paying enough attention. The tumble lasted longer than expected, so Vash had time to release his second gun from its hiding place in his forearm and keep it close beneath him, out of sight. He finally slumped into a lifeless heap at the bottom and waited, breath hiding in his lungs, feigning death. They came over the top without a care in the world, whooping and hollering, thinking they plugged a moron.  
  
"Doesn't matter if he didn't have anything good, he was too stupid to live any longer," one shouted, laughing his oily, low laugh.  
  
"Hope he has enough to pay me back for the two bullets I wasted on his sorry ass," another grumbled with an undertone of "something's-not-quite- right-but-hell-if-I-know-what", stepping before the crowd that had fanned out almost shoulder to shoulder in a semi-circle before the downed man. The shooter, the one elbowing his way forward, was obviously the leader and had plans on picking the new corpse clean before the other vultures had a shot.  
  
His mother should have told him many things when he was young, first and foremost being "I love you," but a second best would have been "Never rely on the best laid plans." Plans have a mind of their own and they often go horribly, horribly awry when one expects of them otherwise.  
  
The wind died down, just long enough for the entire crowd to hear one report and then the soft, muted whumpft of nine guns landing in the sand. Staring up at the bandits was El Diablo himself, eyes ablaze with fury and two guns smoking. As the sun set, realization dawned in the tiny brain of the leader; he knew now why the traveler seemed so familiar, even without a big red coat. It wasn't the infamous coat that was plastered all over the old wanted posters; it was that face.  
  
"Fe.... Feh.... Fellas, I thinks we've chosen the wr.... wro.... wrong gentleman to pick on," the leader stuttered, all his "bravery" gone in a flash of recognition.  
  
Each man there told stories of this meeting as long as their pitiful lives lasted. He had the look of the devil's own fire in his eyes, they all agreed, a sight that both burned and froze the very marrow of the bone. Each had their own way of telling the story, changing who bested the man to himself, but tell it they did, about their encounter with Vash the Stampede, the most dangerous man alive. Of course, not a single one ended it the way it really happened, as follows:  
  
The gale picked up again, taking with it that frightening look upon the stranger's face. He tried again to speak but his audience had long deserted him. Vash was left alone and bleeding, but very much conscious, very much alive and very much NOT chopped into little pieces and fed to the tomases.  
  
Vash struggled to get up but collapsed, panting; the tumble and the bullet took more out of him than he expected, much more than it would of any other time. He managed to holster the Colt but at the sound of some beast baying in the distance over the fury of the waning storm he decided it best to leave his other gun at ready. Three bullets left....  
  
The one bullet in his side had managed to hit some very vital things and proudly shared that fact by bleeding out much quicker than a bullet normally does in polite society; what can one say, it was a young and rather brash bullet, a bit too cocky for its chamber. Not at all civilized like its elders.  
  
Vash did his best to rip away much of his shirt to pad and tie up the wound. Night was almost absolute, and even though the storm had at last faded away to a gentle breeze, it was moonless. Vash couldn't see a thing. Shivering in quite literally just his shirtsleeves, Vash gently curled himself around his duffel bag and drifted of to unconsciousness. That was, until he heard the same predatory howls again, and much closer.  
  
Again and again they sounded, closer and closer to poor Vash. It sounded like a whole pack of whatever they were, and a hungry pack at that. If Vash had a fire going, he would have seen the eyes glittering around him. As it was, he became quite aware of the beasts' presence with the first contact between teeth and skin.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Myskin: I decided to do this one all Vash; I was going to make it longer with another Wolfwood scene, but I wanted to get it up since a few people are actually reading and enjoying the fic. Thanks by the way to all who have given me such great feedback! 


	4. Meetings and Musings

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Myshkin: Sorry about the whole Vash in pain in the last chapter. It hurt me to write it, if you must know, but I'm just trying to write what I see fit. You'd be pretty depressed too if you had to go through what Vash does. Anyways, onward.   
  
P.S. from Myshkin: Oh yeah, just because I didn't want to get into trouble I raised the rating to R for the violence in this chapter. To me, personally, I don't think it's R material, but I wanted to be on the safe side. It's kinda bloody. Don't worry, it'll all be okay. Our trusty heroes (and not so trusty villain) have gotten through worse scrapes than this.  
  
Tying up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Meetings and Musings  
  
Wolfwood got the news an hour after sunset. Vash the Stampede had been sighted 40 iles west of the watering hole he now stood in. Wolfwood, again the master of timing, happened to hear the bandits' first version of "Them vs. Vash the Stampede" as they stumbled into the saloon, shaken but not quite quaking. These were tough men, when the need called for it; granted, they acted like chicken-shit when they first discovered the identity of their "pigeon," but who wouldn't in the face of certain death. Wolfwood listen as the story unfolded and smiled, able to read between the lines of fact and fiction. He knew Vash was alive, if not perfectly well. He also knew Tongari was headed south, towards February, but couldn't gleam anything more helpful from the ragged bunch.  
  
"Reverend, you planning on trying for a reward? I hears no one's paying anymore, on account of him being too dangerous. There's stories about some insurance company sending two little women after him and theys were never seen again," an older man whispered conspiratorially to the priest. They were sitting along the outer edge of the room, both focused on the group of braggarts in the center of the room. Wolfwood grinned for a moment and muttered around his cigarette.  
  
"One wasn't so little and both most certainly held their own against the Human Typhoon."  
  
The old man looked quizzically at the dark-haired man.   
  
"At least," Wolfwood added, "so I've heard."  
  
The old man nodded and took another swig of his scotch. Wolfwood got up and headed towards the door when the old man posed the question again, wanting an answer that would add to the gossip.  
  
"You planning on trying for a reward?"  
  
This time the whole saloon heard the question, turning all their attention towards the priest. Wolfwood stopped and turned to face the "victors," their audience, and all their probing yet fearful eyes. Even the bartender's attention was riveted on the man in black.  
  
"Why, whatever gave you that impression?" he asked innocently. "All I see before me is a soul in need of saving." More like his pathetic ass than his soul, he added to himself.  
  
If possible, the whole saloon went even more quiet than before, except for the slight rustle of hats being draw off of heads and placed over hearts. No one muttered a word of encouragement because they all agreed he was a damned fool.   
  
Little did they know, Vash the Stampede was the one at serious risk of a thrashing when the two men would finally meet. All this run-around, dodging friends crap had to end. Vash was a moron for not letting any of them help, although Wolfwood agreed in keeping the women out of it. Wolfwood also knew that the insurance girls really didn't care what the two gentlemen thought and would have gone to the ends of the earth for Vash. For all Wolfwood knew, they already had.   
  
He felt a slight weight in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, although the item there didn't gain any in the last moment; as he walked out of the room his hand strayed there, about to take out the last letter he had received from Milly about four months ago. Wolfwood was damned if he knew how her letter found him, but it did, and he hadn't let it out of his reach once. Wolfwood sighed and walked out into the cool night. The room breathed in collectively and resumed its normal buzzing drone.   
  
He stood just outside the semi-circle of light pooled around the saloon door, wanting to take out the letter and read it again, but he resisted the urge. He practically knew it by heart and there was no new information he could gleam from those few lines. It surprised him how short the letter was considering its author, a fact that still worried him even now. He could only hope Milly and Meryl were okay and have faith in their abilities. Wolfwood had enough to worry about on this wild plant chase.  
  
Wolfwood straddled Angelina II and rode off into the night, headed for February. Her head light illuminated the sand before him, making it glitter like the stars above. It was so dark that he felt surrounded by the deep vacuum of space. No moon rode across the sky to light his way as he rode deeper into the maw of the wilderness. Several animals let out a cry in the distance, bringing him back down to Gunsmoke. He didn't know what it meant but the primeval part of him that still existed in his gut jumped to ready stance. Wolfwood urged his motorcycle on a little faster.  
  
Time passed but it didn't feel like it to the priest. He was anxious and not being able to see any scenery pass, any sign of progress, made him all the more worried. What his headlight fell on never changed. Curse the moonless night! The howling of the beasts kept him going until at last he realized he actually had drawn nearer to the source. Vague figures struggled in the distance and then the loud report of a gun cut through the unpleasant grunts and snarls. A mighty yelp went up, followed by an apology obviously stated through gritted teeth and without much breath.  
  
Wolfwood had no doubt in his mind: he had found Tongari. Angelina II protested as he urged her over another dune, sending them flying over the fray. There was a sickening, meaty thump as the bike made contact with one of the animals, tangling it up with Angelina II's front wheel. It had the appearance of a frightening cross between a hyena and a pole cat; the whole thing emitted a foul stench of decay and displayed ferocious tenacity.  
  
Wolfwood had heard stories about such scavengers, vicious and eager to eat anything, including humans. Each area had its own name for the monsters, and he remembered stories at the orphanage about the Ravagers, as they were called there. Terrible things that would actually steal into smaller villages and prey on anything from chickens to stray dogs to children. A real, living creature straight from a child's nightmare, they were, and very protective of their catches. Right then they saw Wolfwood as another scavenger, bent on stealing what they rightfully found.  
  
The one lodged on the front of the motorcycle slashed and bit madly before Wolfwood managed to land and spin around, throwing the beast and illuminating a very torn up Vash valiantly trying to fight off a pack of Ravagers without killing a single one. Wolfwood jumped from the motorcycle, letting her fall on her side, motor still running, and ripped off the Punisher's cloth, standing his ground against the beasts.   
  
He panted heavily, blood already dripping from his shoulder as the animals turned their attention on him. Wolfwood let off a round at the mass of fur, claws, and teeth that had begun to circle him, chasing off all but one without hurting a soul.   
  
He really wanted to be able to avoid the whole "You didn't have to kill them, Wolfwood" scene that would have ensued once he and Tongari were able to sit down and have a chat. He was also really lucky that as a whole Ravagers are cowardly beasts when faced down. Who knows what was wrong with the one that couldn't be shaken from the priest, because a lone Ravager didn't scatter at the sound of the gun. Maybe it was sick, or stupid, or whatever, but instead of running, it leapt.  
  
The Ravager's jaws clamped down around Wolfwood's throat, the weight of its body shoving the man to the ground. Blood and breath began to escape Wolfwood as he tried to beat the foul creature; another sickening whump and immense pain in his jugular signaled to Wolfwood that the issue was now heading towards under control. He heard the squeal and snarling when another bullet was fired. At last all Wolfwood could hear was the creature's hasty retreat and its plaintive call to its kindred. Finally the priest summed up enough energy to look around.  
  
To his right stood death warmed over in the form of Vash the Stampede. The poor guy was covered in blood, his white shirt and brown slacks no longer their original hue. He was clutching at his side with his real hand as the gun arm smoked gently at his side. Vash's body was a riddled countryside marred by old battles and now, once again, it suffered new furrows and trenches cut by man and beast. Of course he still had the capacity to grin at his friend who looked as if he was trying to catch up scar-wise all in one fight. Both breathed heavily, staring at each other with unspoken sentiments and slander flying through the air between them. At last Vash spoke.  
  
"Just the man I needed to see," Vash murmured before collapsing, unconscious. Wolfwood sighed and heaved himself up, wincing at the action. Ignoring his wounds to the best of his abilities, Wolfwood managed to heave Vash's limp but still breathing body over the front of Angelina II's seat, straddling the motorcycle behind him. He wrapped one arm around Vash's waist and sped off into the night, hoping that someone was up at this hour in February.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The fever had taken complete hold of Knives; two days without medication and care, lying low in a stinking cave, it all didn't make for the best healing environment. He was delirious and seeing things.  
  
Little Vash from years gone by was sitting by his side, wiping his brow and trying to spoon some hot soup past his unwilling lips. The boy talked in low soothing tones, although his voice was edged with question. Knives rolled over, trying to embrace his brother, but Little Vash jumped back away from the plant's grasping hands, almost spilling the broth. Fat tears began to roll down Knives' cheeks, mingling with his sweat. He begged Vash never to leave him and never hurt him like he had so many times before. All the boy could do was stare.  
  
A gentle laugh, like silver upon crystal, tinkled sweetly at his feet. He turned his attention from Little Vash to see HER, that cursed woman who had ruined everything so many years ago.  
  
"You think Vash has hurt you more than you've hurt him, Knives?" Rem asked.  
  
"You," he growled and gasped, barely able to sit up, let alone lunge at her. She was gone before he could even try again, and then back once more at the entry way to the cave, surrounded by the day's bright, new light.  
  
"You've wounded him so deeply that he's lost his way. He's tired and hurting and only wants the best for you."  
  
"What he expects is the best for me is ridiculous! Love those who fear and hate us?! Take care of those who destroy our kindred?!" he burbled and coughed and spat. Knives wheeled around to Little Vash who was still there, looking far more frightened than before.  
  
"Sir.... You're really sick," Little Vash stuttered. "You need to see a.... a healer. My... my sister can help if you'll come with me. Sir?"  
  
"Sister?" Knives murmured, calming down at last. "We have a sister? Why didn't you ever tell me Vash?"  
  
"My name's not Vash, sir," the boy said with a little more courage. "It's Isaiah, sir."   
  
Isaiah waited for the shoe to drop in the poor, delusional man's mind. The fever had him seeing and hearing people that weren't there and it was obvious he was more than a little twitchy. Isaiah started to worry; he had no clue what he had gotten himself into and the only way out of the cave was around this guy. Stupid Isaiah, he told himself, trying to play the hero and saving the life of a dangerous man.  
  
At last Knives just laughed in almost a kind manner.  
  
"Oh Vash, playing a trick on me, aren't you? You were never this playful around me before, but I'm glad. Yes," he smiled and wink conspiratorially, "I'll come and see your 'sister,' 'Isaiah.'"  
  
Knives tried to get to his feet but he ended up flat on his back, panting.   
  
"I'll go get Edy, sir. You're in no shape to travel. Give me half a day and I'll be back with her, right quick," the boy exclaimed, scrambling frantically out of the cave before the man changed his mind. Knives heard a motor bike start up and drive away, its loud hum fading in the distance.  
  
"But.... Vash can't drive," Knives gasped, exhausted from all the effort he had just put forth.  
  
"That's because he's not Vash," Rem replied, back once more. Knives hadn't even realized she'd left.  
  
"A hu.... human," spat Knives.  
  
"Not that either."  
  
"Rem, you're not making any sense!"  
  
"And you're delirious. Let them help you Knives. You'll find Vash again through them, and hopefully some rest."  
  
"And how do you know anything, you stupid woman," he cried, almost like a petulant child.  
  
"Because, deep down inside, you know it too."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Myshkin: He he he, for once Knives is the one with visions of Rem. ^_^ Let the parade of original characters begin (if two can make a parade)! 


	5. Introductions and Inquiries

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Myshkin: And now for something completely different! Let's get to know some original characters and check in on some old friends!  
  
Tying up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Introductions and Inquiries  
  
A young woman stood at the door of a kindly, old house, watching the world wander past her. The world as Edy saw it composed itself of a stray cat and a few dust clouds scuttling by. Her comfortable home sat on the very far north side of February, standing off on its own; it all the years of its existence, the city never over-took the house, leaving the home of the most revered healers in all of February on its own. It wasn't so much that people were afraid of the Gardener women, because any who met them usually grew very fond of them, but they were obviously quite powerful in their craft and no one wished to cross them. So Edy grew up enjoying a large yard and no pesky neighbors, while not missing out on playmates.  
  
The north end of February actually contained the seeds of the sprawling city. The first settlers huddled there around the old plant that, even after a hundred years or so, still existed in perfect working order. From this neighborhood February sprouted and spread. People often referred to the area as the Hollow, where the old buildings clustered around narrow streets seemed to take a person back fifty years or more, especially compared to the rest of February which was all caught up in the modernization boom.   
  
Time didn't move forward in the Hollow, it just seemed to stay put, caught in a perpetual cat nap. Older residents who were born and raised here planned to die here, as well as the younger families that never could find their way out of their childhood homes. It was a place where you still bought your bread fresh every day and haggled over fruit prices with the grocer despite the fact that he finally moved his stall into a store front at the urging of his "modern" son. It was most certainly the type of place that trusted the word of a good, old-fashioned healer over that of a new, uppity doctor. In the Hollow, medicine was more akin to witchcraft than the acts of the Gardener women.  
  
Edy Gardener held that revered position currently, as her mother had years before, and her grandmother before that and her great grandmother before that. Pictures lined the front hall of these women, and the similarities between them all were eerie. Edy alone seemed to be of different blood, if only slightly. All three Edwina Gardeners before her looked as if they could be identical triplets, or even the same woman; only the clothing styles distinguished between the generations. They all shared the long blond hair and clear, bright eyes, but in the faces Edy and her elders differed. Whereas they all had the slim face, small nose, and fine, wise lips, Edy's face was round, her nose wide, and her plump lips seemed to forever be turned up in a petulant, sardonic smirk. It was almost like she broke tradition without even trying. People came to depend upon the name and face of Edwina Gardener and Edy not only hated having to carry on that out-dated name, she didn't feel that she looked right either.   
  
Still, the patients came. They saw the hair, eyes, and the name and never doubted a word that passed her lips. Edwina Gardener was always the woman to trust with all your problems and it never seemed to matter that she passed on her name and role every thirty years or so. An Edwina Gardener was always skilled, kind, and discreet. They were raised well. All except this one.  
  
Edy lost her mother when she was eight and just last year her father died, not long after introducing Isaiah into the family. At twenty-three, she had very few questions of who she was or what was her purpose; the only thing that bothered her was that she felt incomplete, not fully trained for her important role in the community. Her mother barely had the chance to impart some of her secrets and wisdom to her daughter before passing. Isaiah would ask question upon question about who he was, what he was, and where he came from, and Edy had plenty of answers. Edy's father never had the answers for her, though, when she asked him the same questions. Very early on Edy figured out that she would never learn anything more than what her father could tell her, so she stopped asking and tried to deal with what she actually had: a half-formed healing ability and a reputation formed years before she entered this world as a healer and an advisor. Whether she felt complete or not wasn't important. Edy couldn't fight the currents of tradition; they were far too strong.  
  
Sighing, Edy turned and headed inside. Roscoe the Rescued Wonder Mutt leapt with sheer joy as she shut the door behind her, forgetting that she had just stepped outside a quarter of an hour ago. To the part Great Dane, part everything else, that was an eternity without his companion. Edy gently shoved him down and scratched behind his big, floppy ears. His large, boxy head reached her stomach which he prodded with his wet nose, begging for something to eat. Roscoe had eaten breakfast scraps only an hour ago, but again that was an eternity to his large stomach. Dogs rarely have an acute sense of time and Roscoe didn't dare go against any dogdom rules; he was a good doggy.  
  
"All right dearheart," Edy laughed, smiling for the first time that day, "I'd better get you something to eat before you waste away to nothingness."  
  
She padded down the hall, having not put any shoes on yet that morning and not planning to for the rest of the day. Edy passed the Edwina pictures on the way to the back rooms where her private kitchen and living room resided.   
  
Like every time she passed these pictures Edy half-heartedly noticed the only difference between Edwina Number 1 through 3 was the amount of black in their fair hair. Edwina Number 1 (her great grandmother) had none, Edwina Number 2 was about half and half, and her mother had only the front locks of blonde hair remaining. Father always said that her mother's hair seemed to only get darker and darker every year leading up to her death; the portrait in the hall was taken only a month before she died. Edy always wondered why their hair never went gray or white, but black. Edy's too was going black, but much faster that she expected.  
  
Pausing to look in the mirror at the end of the hall, just before she turned into the kitchen, Edy lifted up her hair to look at the black layers that grew from the nape of her neck to just above her ears.  
  
"At this rate, Roscoe," she remarked with a humorless chuckle to the dog, "I'll be a raven-haired beauty by my thirtieth birthday." Roscoe only whined and prodded her in the small of her back, urging her as always towards food for the dog. Still, it bothered her without knowing why.  
  
Edy rummaged through the pantry to emerge with some stale bread for the mooch. Usually she liked to only give Roscoe the best snacks but for some reason she woke up on the wrong side of the bed; in fact, it was more like she woke up ten miles way from the right side of the bed on a pile of glass, nails, and really pointy rocks. Something rubbed Edy the wrong way lately, and she couldn't figure out what.   
  
It wasn't Isaiah; she loved the boy dearly and couldn't over how fast he was growing and learning. Already he had left for the day to explore on his motorbike, a gift from the mechanic for helping his wife through a difficult labor. He'd tried to give Edy something for herself but she refused; she felt Isaiah deserved to be more spoiled than her other foundling, Roscoe, and at the time it felt like the dog was winning.  
  
It also wasn't the fact that Sarah, her closest friend, hadn't called on her in a while; the poor girl was up to her neck in wedding plans and all the terrible responsibilities that came with a moneyed marriage. Edy knew she'd be expected to drop by Southtown to get fitted for her bridesmaid gown and she wanted to retch at the thought.   
  
Southtown was all old money and huge mansions, a place far above Edy's station in life; Mrs. Schneider always made sure Edy understood this fact whenever she visited the beastly woman's daughter. Maybe that's what was bothering her; Edy always dreaded going toe to toe with Sarah's cold, snotty mother and stepping out of her place in society. Edy may have been respected bordering on revered in the Hollow, but in Southtown she was a nothing who, gasp, worked with her actual hands for a living. Edy was always amazed to think how such a sweet, kind, thoughtful young woman as Sarah could be raised by that monster she called "Mother."  
  
The bells dangling from the front door jangled and then stopped abruptly as the door itself banged against the wall as it flew open. Roscoe, long done with his snack, went tearing off towards the door at full tilt before he could get his long legs in working order. Edy hurried after him and arrived in the front hall in time to see the huge dog tumble into two gentlemen, taking them out effectively.  
  
"Roscoe, back!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. The dog peeled himself away from the newcomers and sauntered back to Edy, glowing with pride at a greeting well done. Edy went to push him back towards the kitchen when her hand came away from his muzzle covered in deep, brilliant red. Shocked she turned to see the two men were barely able to pull themselves up and were covered from head to toe in wounds, dirt, sand, and of course, blood. Her quiet day came to an abrupt halt at that very moment. Unbeknownst to Edy at the time, her relatively quiet life also ground to a stop, and neither would be the same before the night would come again.  
  
Of course, Edy didn't have time to register the fact that this was one of those Moments That Change Your Life Forever. She had two heavily wounded men bleeding all over her entryway. Edy switched into Edwina mode, as she called her professional manner.  
  
Edy didn't ask any questions, she just led them into the first front room. She couldn't tell who supported whom, but it seemed obvious that the blonde man was the worse off. He looked like one of Roscoe's old chew toys after he'd had a good half an hour alone with it. The dark haired man didn't look much better with a blood-soaked handkerchief tied around his neck and a nasty limp probably from a break or a bad sprain. The blonde went on the tall cot and the dark man on the couch usually reserved for less severe cases.   
  
"I'll go mix up a sleeping draught for the two of you and then I'll see what I can do," she told them in her Gentle Healer voice. Edy left the two men.  
  
It had been a rough day and a half or so, taking them three times as long as expected to reach February. Both had a tendency to slip in and out of consciousness and Angelina II couldn't drive herself; when Vash was awake, he couldn't drive her either. The motorcycle had to be dug out of dunes and chased after countless times by men that were in no shape to do so. It also didn't make matters any easy when they entered February in what was obviously the most upscale and snobbish part of town. No one would give the walking corpses the time of day let alone directions to the nearest health services provider. At last some kind young woman directed them to a healer on the far side of town while under the most scathing and frightening looks from an imposing, older woman, probably her mother. Both men were glad to leave the company of that hawk of a woman, for fear of yet another attack on their lives. And don't forget Wolfwood had to bear the weight of the Cross Punisher the whole way as well.  
  
Wolfwood pressed lightly at the handkerchief around his neck and spoke in a hoarse whisper.  
  
"Not what I expected an Edwina to look like. I figured she'd be short, dumpy, and old."  
  
Vash smiled and sort of nodded. He tried to figure out exactly what they'd gotten themselves into this time.   
  
Edy returned with a tray weighed down by two small ceramic cups filled with something that steamed, a large bowl, and several rags. She handed a cup to each man and told them to drink it all up and then turned her attention to the blonde man.  
  
Edy set down the bowl filled with water and smelled of brine, and rolled up one sleeve. The other, her right sleeve, was attached to the shoulder by a thin ribbon threaded around the arm; Edy untied the bow and pulled off the sleeve entirely, for what purpose neither man could surmise. She began to gently strip away the tattered remnants of the blonde's shirt, whom she called in her head Gnawed On. He fought it at first but as the draught and exhaustion took hold his resistance lessened.  
  
Edy was taken aback by the scars that covered the man's body; she'd seen a lot of things in her short years but never such damage. A tiny gasp, more like a small exhalation of breath, escaped Edy even though she tried to remain stoic. How could this man, who looked hardly older than herself have acquired so many scars? Gnawed On blushed and tried to turn away, but he didn't have the strength. Edy pressed on and began to wash the new wounds. He gritted his teeth as the salt burned in the cuts.  
  
"I'm sorry, but the salt helps to clean the wounds out better," she murmured softly, in her most reassuring voice. As she washed, her hand lingered on the cage around the man's heart. "I can take away these scars of yours, and get rid of this metal," she said quietly. She spoke half to him and half to herself. He was barely awake by that point but he managed to shake his head and speak.  
  
"They're a part of me, every single one. I couldn't lose them now after so long."  
  
"But this cage, it has to hurt. At least let me take that much."  
  
"Hell, let it go Tongari," the other man, whom Edy called the Priest to herself, rasped with a chuckle. "If she wants to do you a favor, let her do you a favor. She's willing to save your life and then some; either she's as kind-hearted as you, has a thing for your pathetic self, or thinks you're richer than you look. Two outta those three ain't bad."  
  
Edy decided at that moment she didn't like that dark-haired man, his cocky manner, and his rude tongue. She glared at him but he only smirked back. Maybe she'd leave the man now known as Jerk Priest with the limp.... No, she wasn't that cruel. Edy turned back to Gnawed On and he smiled a true, kind smile, not a mocking, cold one like his supposed friend. His lidded eyes met hers and he nodded his consent ever so slightly and then he dropped off to sleep.  
  
Without turning to look at Jerk Priest she asked him a question, keeping her voice clipped and professional.  
  
"What do you two gentlemen go by?"  
  
She got no other response than gentle snores. Well, she'd have to just find out later. She quickly finished cleaning both men's wounds and then began the actual healing.  
  
Roscoe laid protectively in the doorway, basking in the soft glow of his master's work. The windows stood open since the weather was actually somewhat fair that day, and a feather gently blew across the floor on the breeze, landing between his massive paws. He sniffed it gingerly, and then after recognizing Edy's scent all over it, he happily gulped it down; it wasn't food, but that never stopped Roscoe from trying to ingest anything before.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Sempaiiiii! Time to get up! Another bright and sunshiny day has begun! Well, it's actually been going on for some time now, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't get up and start your own day!"   
  
Meryl buried her head even further beneath the covers. If it weren't for the fact that she actually liked Milly, she would have left her in the middle of the desert ages ago. The small woman tried to make herself even smaller and curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed. Bright light suddenly flooded in, making Meryl cringe and cry out.  
  
"Why do you do this every Saturday, Milly?" she whined, blinking painfully up at her towering partner. The big woman grinned big and threw her arms up in the arm, tossing the blanket in the process.  
  
"Because I have big news!" she replied, bursting with excitement. Then she stopped in mid-burst, actually processing her friend's question for once. "Well, that's not why I do this every Saturday," she pondered out loud, "usually I just can't wait to wake you up and see your smiling face. But this Saturday I've really got a good reason! Big news!"  
  
"You already said that," Meryl muttered, her voice rising to a growl. "Are you going to tell me this big news or what?"  
  
"Mr. Vash is alive!"  
  
Meryl fell out of bed in shock. She leapt up, grabbing Milly by the collar.  
  
"Of course he is, that's not news! Remember? We promised ourselves that no news was good news and we wouldn't think the worst until told otherwise! That goes for Mr. Wolfwood too."  
  
"But this time I know for sure! People were talking down at the store that Vash the Stampede was seen south of February a little over a day and a half ago and he was heading straight for it! It's all over the wires!"  
  
Giddy joy welled up in Meryl's tiny frame but she didn't dare betray it. To cover it up she half-heartedly chided her friend. "Stop punctuating in all exclamation points, Milly, it's obnoxious."  
  
Milly calmed down, looking regretful of her exuberance.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sempai, I was just so excited I couldn't wait to tell you and it just burst right out! I mean, out. I hadn't heard anything since Mr. Wolfwood's letter found us last month, and by that time it was already a month old itself and he hadn't found Mr. Vash either. I thought you'd be happy."  
  
Meryl sighed, regretting her sharpness. "I am happy, Milly, really I am. I just don't know what to say. I mean, there's nothing we can, really. We don't know where he is and he wouldn't want us to try and find him. He'd made that clear."  
  
"Who says we have to go find him?" Milly asked innocently. "Maybe we just wanted to go to February on our own. We deserve a nice vacation, don't you think Sempai?"  
  
Meryl grinned; she always allowed herself to forget how clever Milly could be sometimes. Jumping up, she ran to the shower, calling to Milly behind her.  
  
"Call the boss and tell him we're taking an over-due vacation! Then go get us a jeep and pack your things. It's about time we took in the sights that February has to offer!" 


	6. Pain and Problems

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Myskin: Sorry this chapter was a while coming; school's started up again and your wonderful author has three, count 'em, three psych classes, not to mention statistics and painting. For the dubious, painting takes up a hell of a lot more time than you'd think, especially when it's one of your majors. Enough griping, I don't mean to displace my grumpiness upon my faithful audience; it's not your fault I'm frazzled (in case this last sentence hasn't tipped you off, the other major's in psych ^_^). Anyways, I'll do my best to update at least once a week, give or take. Patience, please! On my life I swear I will not forsake a single one of you! On to Chapter Six!  
  
Tying Up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Pain and Problems  
  
Edy sat in the middle of the floor, panting, her entire body coated in a fine, cold sweat. Jerk Priest and Gnawed On Slept soundly, oblivious to the world and Edy's pain.  
  
Why had she made that ridiculous offer to fix Gnawed On's old wound, the one that required metal supports to be placed through his chest? Paired with that thought was another one questioning the character of a man whose lifestyle called for such dramatic remedies. She hadn't even assessed the extent of either man's injuries before shooting her mouth off. A bullet wound, massive neck trauma, and two cases of rabies were more than enough to tax her abilities, not to mention the lacerations, bite marks, a sprain, some concussions, and more bruises than a healer could shake a stick at. Edy stood two steps away from bringing those two back from the dead.  
  
She couldn't even get up and move to the waiting room on the other side of the entryway; a lovely, soft couch waited for her there, but the twenty feet between Edy and it was simply too much at the moment. So she continued to sit, her legs bent loosely up towards her chest and her body leaning forward onto her knees, drawing in minimal amounts of air. Edy glared from time to time at the two sources of her bane. Roscoe had fallen asleep in the doorway and snored loudly. Edy was envious. Not of the dog's ability to imitate a truck back-firing with his nose, but of the dog's incredible skill in conking out so soundly.  
  
All she could do was watch the room as it remained in the exact same place it had been moments before. Even closing her eyes elicited a threat from her stomach to remove all of its contents in a very short and unpleasant span of time. Only Edy's willpower kept her breakfast in its rightful place. That, and the fact that she couldn't possibly get up and clean it at this time. The thought of leaving it registered far higher on the disgusting scale that putting it there, so she sat and stared at the sleeping strangers in her front room.  
  
"They look so peaceful and innocent when they're sleeping," she thought. Of course, past experience proved to her that the more angelic a person looked while they slept, the less virtuous they were in waking life. Right then her eyes probably rested upon Satan's personal aides. Still, they were quite handsome.  
  
Edy's door flew open with a bang for the second time that day, the bells cursing loudly in their high, harsh voices. Isaiah slid in on the rug, barely making the sharp right turn through the doorway and over Roscoe, effectively causing him to tumble gracelessly to the floor. The dog looked up for a moment and then went back to sleep, realizing it was only Isaiah and he'd have time to greet him later after his all-important nap was over. Isaiah pushed himself onto his knees, gasping and clutching at his chest, unable to speak for the moment. He looked paler than usual and frightened too; Edy also knew he was quite excited about something by the way his face couldn't settle on one expression.  
  
"Isaiah, honey, what is it?" she asked, pushing aside her fatigue as best she could with the rather strong arm of anxiety. The boy, maybe twelve in appearance, held up his hand that wasn't dramatically clawing at his chest to tell her to hold on a moment. With a final gasp he drew in a healthy lungful of air and launched into some garbled story about a crazy man in a cave who thought Isaiah was his little brother.  
  
"The guy's totally nutters, Edy. He talked to someone who wasn't there right in front of me and thought I was his mischievous sibling. The fever's eating his brain alive!" he exclaimed, melodramatic as usual. Edy sighed, not exactly sure what was going on or if it really was as bad as Isaiah claimed it to be. She made him slow down and repeat himself, but a little quieter so he wouldn't wake their "guests." Isaiah finally noticed the two men passed out in the room.  
  
"Where's they come from?" he asked in a hushed whisper.  
  
"Your guess is as good as mine, kiddo. They stumbled in on the edge of death and I couldn't turn them away."  
  
"You never could turn away a good-looking fellow, could you, Edy?" Isaiah remarked with a devilish grin.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," she almost screeched, blushing brilliantly as only a fair person can.  
  
"Oh, come on Edy, I see the way you flirt with Jake whenever he brings by the groceries. What other reason would he have to go out of his way to bring our food to our doorstep? And Riley's always dropping by for a meal unannounced and you never kick him out. Don't forget Carl and Michael either!"  
  
"Just because they, for some odd reason, enjoy my company doesn't mean I want to be romantically attached to a single one of them. And I don't flirt!"  
  
Edy made to put the little imp in a headlock but stopped short, wincing and doing her best not to betray any other pain. Isaiah realized he had gone to far and Edy couldn't handle the excitement right then. He became serious again, returning to the problem surrounding his crazy man in a cave.  
  
"I don't think he'll last much longer; can you come out and see him? I have the motorbike warmed up and she'll get us there in a couple of hours."  
  
"If there's someone in need of my attention, he's going to have to come here," she said slowly, frustrated. "I'm not going to leave the house with these two nameless rogues in it alone and I'm most certainly not leaving you with them either."  
  
"But the poor guy's too sick to even stand!"  
  
"Then get Benny to drive out with you and put the guy in the back of Benny's truck."  
  
"Benny's in New Isles, visiting his brother and baby nephew."  
  
"What about Jake?"  
  
"Tied up trying to tie down a new produce seller. Frank, George, Riley, and Richard can't do it either, before you ask."  
  
Edy looked quizzically at him.  
  
"What did you do, talk to everyone in the neighborhood who owns an automobile before you came home?"  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"Well, all I can do is send you with a few things and hope it'll do until I can get to him or him to me."  
  
"If you had started my apprenticeship by now this wouldn't have been a problem," Isaiah muttered in such an ill-tempered manner one could easily tell it was a well-worn argument that he brought up. Edy sighed and drew Isaiah to her, hugging him tight and resting her chin upon his head. He didn't fight her, even though he felt he was getting too old to be held by her like that, like she held him when he was a little boy.  
  
"You know exactly why we haven't started that, Isaiah. You're only a year old; in another year you'll practically be grown and then we'll know better how to go about this."  
  
"But you won't be." he interrupted and then cut short, pulling away enough to look her in the eyes. They never spoke about what they knew to be true. Edy tried to hide it from Isaiah, but he was too clever and figured it out anyways. Edy probably wouldn't be around in a year. No doctor or healer yet could figure out what was wrong with her, except that everything in her body seemed to be wearing out way too fast. She had good days and bad, but the good days were fewer and farther between. Edy's throat tightened but she ignored it, trying to avoid this topic like always.  
  
"Let me get you what you need to take with you," she said, as she gently pushed Isaiah away and tried to get up. Isaiah stopped her and rubbed at his eyes, trying furiously to make the tears stop before they escaped down his cheek.  
  
"Just tell me what I need, and I'll get it."  
  
So Edy told Isaiah all the things he would have to use to help yet another foundling. The story of her life, it seemed. In that way she was a true Gardener; all the Edwinas had a very soft spot for orphans, strays, and anyone in need of any kind of help, big or small. It always amazed Edy to look at the old family albums and count the number of friends and new found family the Edwinas always had surrounding themselves. Oddly enough, no pictures of the Edwinas as children existed; Mom always said they were camera shy until they blossomed as young ladies. Edy accepted that like she did everything else anymore.  
  
Isaiah headed for the door, a large satchel slung over his shoulder. Edy called him back into the front room with one more request before he left.  
  
"A gin and tonic, would you, kiddo? Make it a little heavier on the gin this time."  
  
Isaiah frowned inwardly but obeyed his sister. He didn't like the fact that Edy always had a drink after she worked, whether it was evening or not. He also didn't like the fact that she obviously over-did herself but she wouldn't, no, she couldn't ask him for any more help than to mix her a bloody drink. He knew her pride would be the death of her and that thought made him want to lay down and cry.  
  
More a mother than a sister to him, Isaiah really only knew Edy as his family. He couldn't even remember Edy's father, the man who found him in that plant bulb and snuck him home to be raised like a child and not treated like a specimen free to be experimented upon. He refused to lose Edy that easily, but he could see her slip away slowly, day by day. She hurt a lot, and even though she wouldn't admit it even to herself, she looked forward to the day she could rest at last. Over the past few months Edy moved slower and slower, with more difficulty. It seemed that all Isaiah could do was watch Edy die.  
  
Isaiah rode out with these thoughts pulling his heart down low. Edy had many of the same thoughts herself, and only an inkling as to why her body wasn't strong enough for this life. Her thoughts returned to teaching Isaiah.  
  
The real reason why she hesitated in training Isaiah had nothing to do with his age or physical maturity. Edy worried that she didn't know enough to teach Isaiah. What if it didn't work? He obviously had the gift, as strong as Mom, but they weren't blood related. Edy had seen hints of his abilities but that didn't mean he could become a true Gardener. Edy didn't even feel like a true Gardener herself; how could someone incomplete make another whole?  
  
She stared at the drink in her hand and then, in a fit, she threw herself up onto her feet and stumbled to the bathroom, dropping the glass along the way. Edy retched, hugging the toilet while sobbing and hating herself for giving up so easily on life, for wrapping herself up in her self-pity, and keeping Isaiah so far out of her arms' reach that she couldn't even see him anymore. Too much had happen over the course of one year; she had gotten so sick and he had gotten so big she hardly could make up lies fast enough to explain why one month she was caring for a baby, the next a toddler, the next an almost grown young man. The foundling precedent established by her foremothers helped make outsiders understand what they never cared to look too close at, but it didn't make it easy for Isaiah. Nothing had been easy for Isaiah. What kind of life could she possible give her dear little boy when she couldn't even live her own.  
  
"Oh Isaiah, sweetie, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she cried into the bowl of the toilet. "I don't know what to do anymore and I can't possibly help you now. I know so little! So little. Momma! Damn you! Why'd you leave me? Why'd you leave us! Dad couldn't handle this, he was just a plant worker, not a gifted man. He was so lost after you died!"  
  
This ranting went on for sometime. Roscoe awoke from his slumber once more and flopped down next to Edy to provide some warm, fuzzy comfort and further fulfill his good doggy duties.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"What are you trying to do?" Rem asked from her seat by the entrance to the cave. She had come and gone so easily when Isaiah had been there, but once the boy left she settled down near the light and remained there. Knives had tried to ignore her presence but she wouldn't allow him any peace if he refused to respond. At least she didn't make him look at her.  
  
"You know damn well what I'm trying to do," he snapped. He then paid for his harshness with a fit of coughing. He managed at last to stop and take a sip of water from the canteen Isaiah had left him before Rem spoke again.  
  
"Pretend that I don't. Pretend that I'm Vash. How would you begin to tell him what you're planning."  
  
"Vash knows. Vash knows I want to tear the humans right out of the sky the moment the ships are loaded down with their filthy cargo."  
  
"At the cost of your kin? The plants that still live inside their bulbs?"  
  
Knives grew silent and bitter. He didn't like what he had to do, but to have the strength to destroy those ships and then the rest, a few sacrifices would have to be made. They would understand, once their enslavement finally ended. They would; of course they would.  
  
"She's coming, you know. She'll come and eventually he'll come, and together they will keep you from this task."  
  
"Why do you speak riddles to me, Rem?!" Knives spat, finally flopping over to stare at her, hatred oozing from his crusty, weepy eyes. "Why do you haunt me?! Why not follow Vash around, he's still adhering to your heavenly gospel! Leave me to die in peace!"  
  
A frightening light shown in his eyes as he struggled to reach her. He tried to make his blades unsheathe themselves from his arm but before he could lash out, he collapsed, panting. Too much, the effort was far too much for him. He laid there in the dust panting, as well as sobbing like a child who had gone long past its nap time. The pain, the sickness, the anger, the anguish, it all pressed down so heavy on him. He tried to curse Rem and all the other filthy humans for what they did to Tessla, to him, to his brother, all his grievances against their filthy species, but all that came out were guttural moans and howls. They pierced Isaiah's heart all the same.  
  
Unbeknownst to Knives, Isaiah had run up in time to hear his last plea to the woman that Isaiah couldn't see. His knees shook at the sound and his courage almost left him; Isaiah had never seen a grown man act in such a way and it scared him as much as struck him with pity. He swallowed and spoke, trying to gain the man's attention somehow.  
  
"Sir, I'm back, like I said I'd be. Edy couldn't come yet but I'll see what I can do."  
  
It seemed that Knives hadn't heard Isaiah. It took him several minutes more to calm down. When at last Knives regained some control he burned with shame. He hadn't lost all connection with reality yet and he knew that this young boy had seen his ridiculous behavior. Struggling to roll onto his back, he breathed deeply and glared at Isaiah, disguising his self-loathing in his mistrust. Rem said this boy was not a human, but Knives saw no evidence to the contrary. Rem had lied to him before. Isaiah decided to speak and break the uneasy silence.  
  
"I have some things to help with your infection a little and bring down the fever. And some food too; you look like you haven't eaten in days, sir. It's not much, but it'll do till she'll come."  
  
Knives heard him parrot Rem's words from earlier, the riddle. He stood on guard even more now, but he let the boy come close. One little flick of his wrist and the boy's throat could be cut perfectly, more precise than the finest scalpel. Knives drew up what little reserves of energy he had and readied himself.  
  
The attack never came. As much as he wanted to, Knives couldn't hurt Isaiah. He looked too much like Vash when he was that age. So Knives grudgingly allowed Isaiah to clean out his festering wounds with some foul smelling liquid and eagerly ate all three sandwiches the boy gave to him. He even drank down the bittersweet drink in the new canteen that Isaiah had pulled from the bag.  
  
"Don't worry, sir. You'll sleep now, and I'll be back with Edy tomorrow afternoon. I promise," Isaiah assured him, already picking up the professional bedside manner from watching Edy work.  
  
He knew he wasn't like Edy, though. Edy would never hesitate to help anyone in need, ever; she didn't even wait to get those two guys' names before she spent all her energy on them. Thoughts of Edy made his heart clench up in his chest and tears once again threaten to dampen his cheeks. He pushed it down, another skill he learned from Edy. Isaiah sat with the man until he drifted off to sleep and then gathered his things and headed out into the evening. It was almost nighttime and Isaiah didn't want to be out alone for too long. There had been rumors of Ravagers about and attacking humans, and he didn't want to meet those things anytime soon. 


	7. Rise and Shine

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Tying Up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Rise and Shine  
  
Vash awoke, the first of the two to regain consciousness. His whole body felt kind of numb at first, and then tingled as he shifted over to his side, like every limb had fallen asleep with him and decided to wake up then too. He breathed in slow and easy, waiting for the discomfort to pass. When at last it did, stiffness replaced the numbness, especially in his chest and side. It felt as if all the muscles in those two areas were tense, so he gently began to knead them out, starting with his side and then moving to his chest. When his finger tips grazed bare skin over his heart he stopped, bewildered. Something seemed wrong, something wasn't right. The fog in his mind lifted slowly and he remembered.  
  
That woman, the healer, she had offered to get rid of the grating; he struggled to remember her name. Edwina was it? Vash, in what he marked down as a drug-induced slip in judgment, had agreed to it. It seemed wrong now, agreeing to the woman's proposal. An odd mix of liberty and sadness bothered him as he realized a part of him had disappeared for good.  
  
"Don't be silly," he thought to himself, "how could a hunk of metal running through my chest have anything to do with who I am. Besides, what's done is done."  
  
This false sense of indifference almost covered up the fact that it still bothered him, especially a certain thought that managed to worm its way through Vash's logic. Maybe the metal didn't make up a component of his personality, but it was a part of his experiences; those experiences, they were what made him Vash, and he didn't want to forget a single one of them. His body acted almost as a scrapbook of memories, covered in reminders of all the sad ones. Of course he remembered the happy times, but those were easy to keep nestled in his mind and heart. It was the trying times that tested him and he passed that he needed to keep at hand, to prove he had survived and came out of them a stronger individual.  
  
He sighed and turned his thoughts outward, letting his eyes roam across the room. Night had fallen, drenching the room in deep blues and blacks. The only other colors came from the pool of light falling around an old oil lamp that rested on the wall beside the door. A curtain of some heavy material hung in the doorway, blocking Vash's view of anything outside of the room. He could see vague shapes in the darkness, noticing Wolfwood's still figure on a low couch across the room. The priest seemed to be sleeping soundly, his breathing slow and deep.  
  
Vash noted that the high cot he laid on rested against the outside wall, with windows just past his head and feet. The curtains were drawn but the windows stood open, allowing the breeze to lazily push the gauzy fabric away from the wall and their resting places. A tall, long counter ran along the wall opposite the door and had on it what Vash assumed to be two piles of clothes. With a glance under the covers, Vash realized why.  
  
All that remained of his torn, worn, and blood-stained clothes was the pair of boxers still girding his loins, and even it should have probably went with its comrades to the dumpster. She had been kind enough to leave him a shred of his decency. At that thought Vash reddened markedly. A strange woman had seen so much of his battered and beaten body, all while he was unconscious. Vash glanced over to his friend and noticed a naked shoulder peeking out from beneath the blanket; at least Wolfwood had probably lost his privacy as well.  
  
"You idiot," he chided himself again, "she's a healer. She's probably seen plenty of half-naked men in her line of work. It's all a part of what she does!"  
  
Again, his self-reproof almost, but not quite, made him feel better. And again, another ridiculous thought wiggled its way past his logic. Maybe it wouldn't have bothered him so much if she had been fifty years older or something. Anything but young and, if he remembered correctly and the pain hadn't skewed his vision, kind of attractive. He thought she looked kind of lovely, but those eyes. Her professional bedside manner couldn't hide the pain, fatigue, and sadness in those eyes. He also wished she didn't have to see all his scars; they could make a grown man sick and usually scared women. He saw her pause when she first got a look at them and knew they had surprised her, someone who probably had seen plenty of pretty bad things done to the human body.  
  
The cool wind rolled over his skin and Vash shivered. He wondered why he had put so much time into thinking about this woman and not what he needed to be his next move. The realization that Knives still roamed free came crashing back in on his poor skull and his expression as well as his manner turned grim. He considered getting dressed and slipping out on his own to continue the search, but that wouldn't be wise. Vash had no supplies, dwindling funds, and, oh yeah, no frickin' clue where Knives could possibly be. That, and some delicious aroma lazily sauntered in from the kitchen, reminding Vash that he honestly couldn't remember the last time he had eaten.  
  
Vash slid slowly down from the cot, making sure his legs would support him while trying to keep the blanket as wrapped around his mostly naked form as possible. His feet landed on something soft and almost furry; a little surprise, Vash looked down to see he stood upon a pair of fuzzy slippers. His toes thanked him profusely when he slipped them on, since they had become quite chilled in the evening air. Shuffling across the hardwood floor to the counter he examined the two piles of clothes and found the set that would most likely fit his tall, skinny frame.  
  
The clothes were used, but still in good condition. Vash wrapped the blanket around his waist before pulling the hooded sweatshirt on over his head; he wanted to keep as covered as possible. His hair, all mussed up, crackled quietly with static electricity and managed to stick up in an even odder hairdo. He stepped out of the slippers a moment onto the cool floor and quickly switched his current pair of shorts for the fresh-out-of-the- package pair in the pile. He then pulled on the pants beneath his make- shift cover. The slippers were put back on and the blanket neatly folded and placed on the cot.  
  
She, pretty sure it's Edwina, had done her best, but due to the last minute notice that she would need men's clothing on hand, it was less than a perfect fit. The sweatshirt fit well enough and the jeans were a little big in the waist but perfectly suitable, except they fell to about mid-calf. Vash held up the other pair to see if they were any longer, but if anything, they were shorter. No matter, he had tough ankles that wouldn't complain about such a silly thing as a draft. His toes maybe, but not his ankles.  
  
Vash shuffled out into the entryway and down the hall, following his nose to where he assumed the kitchen would be. A warm light rolled down the hallway, subtly illuminating what would otherwise be a dark corridor. A glint of light on glass caught Vash's eye and he turned to see four pictures of the same woman. He examined them a little closer and realized that no, they weren't exactly the same. The first three could have been identical triplets if it weren't for the varying amount of black in their fair hair and the shifts in fashion. Vash squinted at the last picture, pretty sure it was Edwina, the healer. She looked similar to the other three, but only vaguely. Family, maybe?  
  
Hunger pulled Vash onward, not allowing him time to contemplate why something about those pictures gave him an uneasy feeling in his stomach. The first three and their hair. All thoughts of this hurriedly dissipated when he turned the corner, (although not before looking in the mirror and realizing that he looked absolutely wretched), and wandered into the coziest, most pleasant kitchen he had seen in years.  
  
It wasn't cutesy or overtly feminine, but the warm yellows on the walls, the shiny black and white tile floor, and the rich, wood cabinets and countertops came together in a cheery combination. Clean pots and pans hung from a rack above a butcher block island that had laying on it the remnants of whatever vegetables had gone into all the dishes hissing and bubbling away on the stove top. A heavy, old table, worn and nicked but still proud of its incredible craftsmanship, stood off to the left from the cooking area and had four places set. The dishes were of a sturdy stoneware, glazed in brilliant blues and greens with tall mugs to match. Silverware rested on real linen napkins and in the center of the table sat a huge bowl filled with colorful greens, tomatoes, carrots, and half a dozen other salad toppings on a bed of probably three different kinds of lettuce. Rolls laid nestled in a basket, tucked in under another napkin. Real butter laid in a dish next to them.  
  
Vash wiped the drool off his chin and turned to the stove where the most delicious smells were coming from. In one pot enough spaghetti noodles were simmering to feed a small battalion. Fresh green beans cooked on another burner and squash popped and sizzled in a shallow pan on another. The fourth pot held the spaghetti sauce, so thick and tasty-looking that Vash couldn't resist dipping a finger in and seeing if it really was as good as it seemed.  
  
"Aha! I knew you were a thief and a rogue!" someone shouted from behind him. He turned to see her, Edwina, glaring at him from across the table and the rest of the kitchen as she stood in the doorway to another back room. Vash froze like a deer in the headlights of a rapidly approaching vehicle. The woman laughed and relaxed her pose, walking into the room. He noticed she limped a little, something he didn't remember from earlier, but didn't say anything.  
  
Edy's mood had improved greatly once she spilt all her thoughts, fears, and breakfast into the toilet; her wounds always healed faster out in the open air. Although all the worries and pain still existed within her heart and body, Edy had managed to push them away and go on with her life, the only way she knew how. Her healing sickness, as she called it, had ebbed away for the most part, except for a headache that lingered at the base of her skull and the difficulty walking. Pains shot up and down her legs but she refused to use her cane in front of strangers. Hell, she usually refused to use in front of her own self.  
  
Vash responded in his overly-dramatic fashion by throwing his hands up in the air and whirling to face her, whimpering.  
  
"Sorry ma'am, but I'm no thief, honest! Just a hungry body looking for a bite to eat, that's all," he exclaimed.  
  
"Then you've come to the right kitchen," Edy said with a smile. "It's no wonder your body's starved after all the work it's had to do to fix you up. You're lucky I've honed my kitchen craft almost to a fine art. Sit, and I'll fix you up a plate."  
  
Vash obeyed and took a place at the table. Edy hummed a song under her breath as she moved slowly but steadily around him, filling his glass, taking his plate, and piling it high with food. She turned from the stove and noticed his naked ankles underneath the table. Edy stifled a giggle.  
  
"Sorry about the pants," she said as she laid the plate down in front of Vash, "but it's a little hard to judge a man's size when you only have to buy for your female self and a little boy. Oh, listen to me, Isaiah would kill me if he heard me say he was a little boy." She smiled and picked up a plate, heading back to the stove for her own supper. He made to get up and get it for her, his mouth full of spaghetti and his cheeks already rosy from globs of sauce. Edy made a motion that meant sit back down, and Vash slowly obliged. Before he could asked who Isaiah was, Edy spoke.  
  
"How does your chest feel?" she asked, dishing herself up significantly less amounts of food. She hoped this meal would stay down when the second wave of healing sickness hit later on in the evening; Edy had learned early on, with any job even half the magnitude of this one, there was always a second wave. "I went ahead and took out every metal brace in your torso. I am sorry I'm not good enough to regenerate missing limbs," she added, her eyes straying to his left arm and back again to the task at hand.  
  
"It feels great," he replied, quiet but pleased. The constant, dull pain that always acted as an undertone to his existence had lessened significantly and it really did feel great. This woman was something of a miracle worker. Vash still missed it all in his own way, but he had grown humble in his appreciation and embarrassment. "Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that, though. I can only pay you so much for your services to begin with and I hate to say that I don't have enough to properly repay you for your extra attention."  
  
"I wasn't even going to ask for anything extra," she said as she sat down at the table, "it was nothing." She blended a truth with a lie, the lie punctuated by the pain in her legs creeping upward; the second wave had begun sooner than expected, but at least it eased its way in this time instead of hitting all at once. She continued on with truths. "I just have a soft spot for foundlings. Although, you really found me instead of the other way around."  
  
So she really was as kind-hearted as himself, one of the motivations for her actions that Wolfwood had put forward, Vash thought.  
  
Edy had sat down at the table across from the young man and looked him straight in his lovely, turquoise eyes. They are quite lovely, aren't they, she thought to herself. Out loud she posed the question that had only been answered by snores the night before, as well as others that had been rumbling about in her head.  
  
"So, what do you and your friend go by? And if you don't mind me asking, what the hell happened to you guys? I'm sorry, that last question was rude of me, even though I do have a right to know if I put you two up for the night like I'm planning."  
  
Vash swallowed and smiled awkwardly. She didn't sound very apologetic about asking the second question, but she had thrown in an offer of a place to stay for the night. Vash wanted to turn her down because she had done enough already, but he couldn't afford to pay her and then pay a hotel bill. He'd figure some way to pay her back for all her kindness. Reluctantly giving in, Vash spoke, smiling kindly.  
  
"My name's Vash and my friend goes by Nicholas D. Wolfwood. We had a little trouble with bandits and wild animals on the road here," he replied, congenial but short.  
  
"That much I figured from your wounds," she smiled back. "It's odd that you go by one name when your friend carries around three. But different strokes for different folks, I guess. So, there's nothing questionable about you two's characters, anything that might worry me to allow you to sleep under the same roof as my little brother Isaiah?"  
  
Vash laughed at her almost abrasive and incredibly upfront manner. So Isaiah was her little brother, huh. What a protective older sister, mentioning only his safety, and not her own. Edy frowned at his laughter and he didn't care for her frown. He hastily explained his reason for the outburst.  
  
"You've nothing to fear from me or Wolfwood; we look tough but I promise you, we're the good guys."  
  
His last few words stuck in her craw for a moment, or would have if she actually had a craw. The good guys? Against what? Against whom? Even if they were "the good guys," there would be some "bad guy" that's out to get them, right? Would Isaiah be safe? Of course it would only be for one night. She probably wouldn't be able to sleep through the next bout of healing sickness so she would be on guard already. Still, why was she trying to come up with excuses to keep these men here?  
  
Because they weren't well enough to go anywhere else tonight and Edy had no way to get them to a hotel, that's why. Edy just guided the body through the healing process at a speed much, much faster than normal, of course. As tiring as it was for her to "override" and speed up the body's systems, the patient's own self did the hard work, the actual healing. Vash and Nicholas D. Wolfwood couldn't probably do much more than make it to the kitchen, eat, and then make it to the beds she made up in the spare bedroom for just such an occasion. Her mother always insisted on following one's intuitions and Edy honestly felt no threat from these two men.  
  
She realized Vash had been staring at her quizzically. She also realized she hadn't spoken for a few moments and her face held a negatively pensive expression. Edy made up her mind that they would stay for the evening so her face relaxed and she spoke.  
  
"Oddly enough, I trust you. You'll stay the evening free of charge; consider it all part of the healing package. I'm the one who wore out your body to make it better so I'm the one who will make sure you're alright the first night after. No one will ever say Edy Gardener lacked in hospitality."  
  
Vash still looked at her in the same manner, as if he was trying to figure something out, but he shook the idea away and continued his meal, chatting pleasantly with Edy, as she called herself, apparently preferring it over Edwina. Such a ridiculous notion, really, he thought to himself. How could he possibly clearly remember how much of her hair was black before as compared to now? Then she had her hair pulled back into a messy bun and now it was loose and trailing freely down her back and over her shoulders. Part of her hair couldn't have turned black in that time span; it was just silly. Humans didn't work like that.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It took Wolfwood far longer to stir from his deep slumber; it was a hard task for his body to recreate all the blood he lost as well as fight a case of rabies, so it needed a little bit longer to rest. He had no clue about the time, only that it was late evening. Staring at the dimly lit room, Wolfwood saw no Tongari but heard his distinct laughter coming from somewhere further back in the house. Another person laughed with him, full, loud, and female. Must be that Edwina woman.  
  
Hunger grabbed his attention quickly and Wolfwood made no hesitation to get up and shuffle over to the pile of clothes left for him. A faded black sweater, jeans, and a brand new pair of boxers awaited him, as well as his own pair of fuzzy slippers; again the pants were short, but it was better than the alternative. Wolfwood didn't even take note of the fact that he had been asleep in his boxers around a strange woman; he was ravenous as well as antsy.  
  
They had enough coinciding conscious time on the trip to February for Vash to explain to him what exactly was going on with Knives. After siding with Vash against his brother, the priest virtually cut himself off from the Gung Ho Guns. The chance still existed that he could get some information from those that remained about Knives' whereabouts, but it was very slim. At this point, though, it stood as their only option. Actually putting this option into action, however, was a whole other story.  
  
He shuffled down the hall and into the kitchen, taking no time to notice the pictures, himself in the mirror, or how the kitchen looked so lovely. He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene of his friend and the healer laughing and chattering like old friends. A bottle of vodka sat on the table amongst the leftovers of their meal, open and almost gone. Figures. He waited until they stopped laughing long enough to draw in shaky gasps of air and then stepped into the room.  
  
Edy saw Vash's friend walk in and stood up so fast she almost knocked her chair over, she was so surprised; she hadn't even heard him coming and then he seemed to just pop out of the shadows. Her body urged her to sit back down, it's every nerve and fiber reeling from the second stint of healing sickness as it gained momentum, but Edy had imbibed enough liquor to successfully ignore it for the time being. Her cheeks were rosy but that was about the only sign that she had a bit to drink. Edy held her liquor well.  
  
"So you're finally awake Mr. Wolfwood," she said with a somewhat sardonic smile. Edy had terrible time getting over first impressions and she still bore some bitterness against the man, especially since he had no time to prove her wrong yet. "Would you like something to eat? I've put it all away but I can heat some up for you. I'm sure you're starving."  
  
Wolfwood nodded and tried to speak, but nothing came out but a hoarse gasp. He had failed to realize how stiff and sore his throat was still. He looked a little frantic and Edy took some pity on him. Her demeanor softened ever so slightly towards the priest.  
  
"Don't worry, your voice will return in about a day or so; you put far too much strain on it after getting hurt and it was pretty torn up, inside and out. Your body had a lot of work for itself." Edy gave him a smile and met his eyes before turning back to reheating a meal for him. "You're a lucky man, Mr. Wolfwood. If your jugular had been cut or your esophagus damaged more than it already was you wouldn't have made it. It's a good thing you have such a good, strong, reliable friend as a traveling companion."  
  
Wolfwood glared at Tongari with all the fury of God's wrath. What the hell did he tell her? From the sounds of it, the little spiky-haired runt had pumped his image up to a nice plump size; on a scale from demon to god, it probably ranked just below savior. Vash grinned and poured Wolfwood a drink. With angry zest he snatched it away and retreated to the doorway to the hall to console himself and his wounded pride.  
  
"Oh, come on, Wolfwood, you know I'm not the real hero for saving your life," Vash said, only riling his friend up more. "You have Edy to thank for that."  
  
Vash motioned to Edy who had her back turned, but because she had pulled her hair back again, exposing her neck, they could tell she had turned an even more brilliant color of red, judging from the blush that crept up towards her hair line. Wolfwood would have said his thanks then if he could, his anger lessening to the point that he wasn't going to take it out on an innocent bystander. Since he couldn't, he just stood there and sipped his drink.  
  
As it turned out, the doorway probably was not the best place for Wolfwood to set up camp. The three of them heard the jingle of the bells as the front door opened and closed. A resounding woof echoed through the halls as a MIA Roscoe reappeared and loudly bounded down from the second floor to greet the visitor. Feet and paws thundered down the hall; a boy emerged first, pushing past Wolfwood, causing the man to fumble with his drink in an effort not to lose it to the rug beneath his feet. Only a second later, if even that, the gigantic dog shot straight through Wolfwood, or would have if he hadn't been a solid being.  
  
Wolfwood hit the floor, tangled in dog and surrounded by laughter. He struggled to remove himself from the mess of dog legs, tail, and tongue when the boy whistled, calling the monster off. Wolfwood caught his breath, realized the front of his shirt and pants were very wet and vodka-scented. All this was getting to be too much. His bad humor had gone from cranky to just plain pissed off, and he was just begging for an outlet.  
  
He looked up to find Edy had moved across the room and knelt down in front of him, checking him out to make sure he was okay. She did this without reserve or request for permission to do so, seeing it as part of her job. Her manner caused Wolfwood to pause, not knowing exactly what to do. Seeing he was fit to stand again, Edy stood up herself and held out her hand, helping him to his feet. The attentive and kind manner dissipated as she turned her attention to the boy who sat in the middle of the floor, covered in a hundred pounds of very, very, very happy dog. Edy bent down, scratching Roscoe behind the ears and addressed Isaiah as if their "guests" weren't even in the room.  
  
"Isaiah, did everything go alright?" she asked, worry written all over her face. Vash and Wolfwood looked at each other, mildly surprised by this woman's sudden shift in temperament and confused considering they had no idea what she and the boy named Isaiah were talking about. Must be other business, Wolfwood thought with a shrug.  
  
"Well enough, yeah. You'd better get out there tomorrow, though. He still needs help," Isaiah said, ignoring the dog for a moment, his own worried expression mirroring his sister's. "You'll be okay, won't you? I mean, after today and everything."  
  
Vash and Wolfwood melted into the background, realizing they were treading on very private ground at that moment. They stood in the doorway to the other back room, turning their backs ever so slightly and tried not to listen in.  
  
"Don't you worry about me, honey, I'm perfectly fine," Edy murmured, lying through her teeth. She couldn't tell if either the alcohol had begun to ebb out of her system or if the healing sickness had just reached its boiling point. It rolled over her in waves, making her legs quiver in fear of giving way beneath her. The pain in her neck exploded across the back of her skull at that very opportune time and she couldn't hold back a wince. It was definitely time to call it a night.  
  
"Well, I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow," she said, turning to Vash and Wolfwood with a painted-on smile, "so let me show you where you'll be staying the night."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Myskin: Manga fans, you know exactly what I'm walking about with Vash in a hoodie. It only happened once, but it was so precious I knew it had to happen again. The fuzzy slippers too. ^_^ 


	8. Flower and Power

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Myshkin: Just a quick note to tell all who review that I really, really appreciate it. Thanks so much for letting me know people actually read (and enjoy) my humble story!  
  
Tying Up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
Flower and Power  
  
The fever broke several hours after Isaiah had left Knives for the evening. Although his infections pained him and his body temperature still rested above normal, the inevitability of death had been put off once again.  
  
He lay there, huddled in upon himself and miserable, too hot to sleep but no longer sick enough for an imaginary being to keep him company; even though it had to be that contemptible woman, she had been better than no one. Even shouting at someone seemed better than being left to his own thoughts. Memories of the past several days slipped in and out of his consciousness like slides dropping from their carousel into a projector and back out again. There would be a flash of something, then it was gone, replaced by another.  
  
He couldn't believe the way he acted around that boy, the shame of it searing him, raising nasty blisters on his ego. He acted like a raving, childish lunatic in front of a lesser being; Knives still couldn't believe he had stayed his blades from Isaiah's throat. Those ridiculous hallucinations of Rem and her foolish words about the boy's true self, that he was a plant too, they echoed through Knives' tired brain, refusing to leave. How could he have fallen for the tales of a figment of his own imagination?  
  
Not wishing to think much longer, Knives unfolded his body from its fetal position and crawled slowly, laboriously towards the new things Isaiah had left him. Several canteens sat next to a large canvas duffel bag that bulged from the contents within. Opening each canteen to examine their contents he found two had plain water and the last held the same bittersweet draught that had dulled his pain and put him to sleep. A note had been attached to this one with directions on dosage. Setting these aside he began to rummage through the bag. Isaiah had left him a blanket, some more food, several volumes of old Earth literature, lamp oil, matches, and wicks.  
  
Upon finding the lamp materials Knives looked around to realize that he could see, even though it was quite possibly midnight or later. An old oil lamp sat in the back of the cave, about four feet from Knives and the rest of Isaiah's "gifts." It gave off a pathetically weak glow but it made him feel better, knowing he had a light source. Knives wasn't afraid of the dark so much as he preferred the light.  
  
Not really wishing to read those books but not really wanting to think anymore he picked up the one on the top and scooted closer to the lamp, dragging the blanket along to roll it into a make-shift cushion. The cover declared it to be of Ancient Italian decent, if his education from his childhood served him correctly. Dante's "Inferno." Sounded abysmally depressing. Still, he flipped it open to the first chapter and began reading the translated portions on the left page, occasionally glancing at the original Italian on the right. He didn't remember enough of the archaic language to read it completely in its original form, but he gleamed small pleasures from recognizing small passages from time to time.  
  
Time passed quickly, the oil level dropping lower and lower in the lamp until the flame barely gave off enough light to recognize vague forms, let alone the words on the page. Knives had drifted of into sleep at last, his chin dropping to his chest as he sat with his back to the cavern wall and the book open on his lap. Dante's perilous journey through Hell no longer occupied Knives' mind as he dreamt of other things.  
  
Knives found himself in the middle of a huge ocean, the waves rushing and tumbling about him, trying to drag down his disastrously boat-less form. He kicked and clawed furiously at the water, but to no avail. Knives slipped beneath the water and slowly but irreversibly sank further down into the enveloping darkness. It was cold, so cold, and darker than the deepest night. The pressure intensified, crushing the air from his lungs. He began to pass out when something soft grazed his lips, his nose. A great swell of air rushed through his lungs, filling his body out again and allowing it to fight against the overwhelming grip of the water. Knives gasped without drawing in water and his body ceased its decent. At last he summoned the courage to open his eyes and see what saved his life.  
  
All he could see before him was a white blossom, large and wonderfully fragrant even underwater, and the hands that held it to his face. The darkness consumed the rest of his savior's body except for what the flower seemed to illuminate: delicate, pale wrists, slender hands, and long, feminine fingers held forth the large bloom to envelop the lower half of his face. Although his botany lessons were so long ago, something in his mind or possible from without, told him that whomever she was, she held forth a gardenia.  
  
"Who are you," he asked slowly and without speaking aloud. The reply came to him in the same manner, a silent answer in his mind. Locks of long black hair ebbed and flowed their way in and out of the gardenia's halo of light. The tone was strong, gentle, and beautiful all at the same time, but sad as well.  
  
"One who is gone from this world but was once like you."  
  
"A plant?"  
  
"She'll come and eventually he'll come, and together they will keep you from this task," the voice said without answer his question. Knives' eyes widened as he recalled his hallucination of Rem said almost the same exact thing. The voice went on, ignoring his reaction. "Through her I will spare your life although I know you will destroy my only daughter. This is our way, one of endless sacrifice and salvation; he knows this already without knowing."  
  
The voice faded from his mind and the hands left, slipping away into the abyss, leaving the gardenia pressed gently to his lips. Knives struggled to reach out, to pursue this woman that spoke directly to his heart, but he only succeeded in knocking away the flower, sending its petals scattering in the current that sudden flowed to life around him. Again that horrible pressing sensation clamped down around his body as he sank once more. Almost all breath and life left him before Knives awoke in a cold sweat back in his cave in the middle of the dry, barren wasteland called Gunsmoke.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Edy led the boys through the double doors from the kitchen into the living room, lighting the wall-mounted oil lamps as she went. Isaiah trailed closely behind his sister, protectively keeping himself between her and the two men. He was always wary of new people, especially when they socialized with Edy. She limped ever so slightly as she moved around the room, but never once let her upright posture dip below its usual level of proud and self-assured. Vash peered around Isaiah, watching her actions with a curious look on his face and wondering why she didn't use power from the plant to light her home. Edy caught his questioning look and laughed, slightly embarrassed.  
  
"This probably sounds ridiculous and all plant-huggerish, but I don't use plant energy anywhere in the house; that's the reason for the lamps and fireplaces in nearly every room. Its sort of a tradition passed on from the Edwinas of the past, my mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. The grounds have an old well and excellent pumping systems for water, oil lamps and candles light the way, obscenely expensive natural gas lines, and a fire place in almost every room keeps us warm on the colder nights or when we're trying to save on the gas bill. I've never had the money or inclination to switch over to plant-energy, so I just kept it the way it is." She knew she was rambling, but she couldn't seem to stop herself as more words tumbled out.  
  
"That reminds me, I'll have to start heating a bath now if either of you want to bathe in about a half an hour, before you go to bed of course. I'm sorry it's so late, I completely forgot about baths for you two, what with dinner and everything."  
  
Neither Vash nor Wolfwood could hold back a smile from this woman. She was putting so much of herself out and seemed to honestly think she couldn't do enough.  
  
"You apologize too much," Vash replied in a kindly reproach. "A bath would be lovely but at least let me help you."  
  
Edy nodded vaguely, probably accepting his offer. They all turned then to Wolfwood to witness his silent reply; He held up his hands and shook his head no, an obvious signal that he decided to decline on the offer. Edy had apparently cleaned them up as best as she could while they slept earlier because the bulk of the grime and nastiness had disappeared. Wolfwood had become accustomed to bathing very little so this felt wonderfully dirt- free; his eyelids agreed whole-heartedly as they tried to snap shut on him every few seconds. Although he had been awake just long enough to grab a drink and a few bites to eat, Wolfwood felt completely exhausted and ready to sleep another day away.  
  
Taking notice of and pity on the poor man, Edy showed him the spare bedroom off the living room where he and Vash would sleep. It cozily engulfed the two twin beds with their clean, turned-back sheets, as well as a moderately sized dresser, a bedside table, and an obnoxious old lamp make of crudely painted glass blown into ridiculous figures that chased each other around the ceramic base. Although the lamp looked like a yard sale gone horribly, horribly wrong, condensed in this one lamp, the light it gave off sent lovely patches of color across the walls and ceilings when Edy touched match to wick. Noticing his thinly veiled amusement/horror, she mumbled something about a childhood relic and then left Wolfwood to himself.  
  
"If you need anything, my room's at the top of the stairs, first door on the right," she said, punctuating her sentence with the click of the catch as she closed the door behind her. Alone and exhausted, Wolfwood fell into bed without undressing even a little bit and dropped off to sleep almost immediately. No dreams would come to him and not even Vash coming in only an hour or so before sunrise couldn't wake the poor man. Wolfwood was down for the night and most of the following morning as well.  
  
Back in the living room, Edy found Isaiah eyeing Vash in a most distrustful manner. The spiky-haired man whistled poorly and tried to look around the room at anyone but that intense boy. Isaiah tore his gaze away from Vash when Edy entered and she threw him a disparaging look while sticking out her tongue at him. He fumed silently at the both of them and then spoke, his speech clipped and annoyed.  
  
"If you can take care of yourself then, Edy, I'm going to bed. Come on Roscoe." In a huff he stomped up the stairs and all the way down the second floor hallway. For a while they continued to hear his heavy, angry movements above them until at last he finally seemed to have gone to sleep, or cooled off. Edy couldn't stay annoyed at him when he acted like such a two-year old; he certainly picked up the occasional persnickety flashes from her real quick. He may not have been her blood-child, but she saw so much of herself in him.  
  
"Cute kid," Vash muttered after Isaiah had left the room. Edy laughed out loud; her expression was strained but the emotion was there. Vash could tell that Edy really didn't feel as good as she pretended, so he decided to move things along in order to get her to bed sooner. Vash gently took her arm.  
  
"Which way to the bathroom?" he asked, his voice light. Edy stiffened from the sudden contact and the unbidden aid. She wanted to pull away, ashamed that he sensed her weakness, surprised at the feeling of his touch against her bare arm. Still, her body convinced her that allowing this man to help her up the stairs was for the best. She had been worried about that daunting task for the latter half of the evening; now that she had an audience her pride wouldn't allow her fail, and she most certainly would not stumble.  
  
"It's at the top of the stairs, next to my bedroom. Funny how this house only has one bathroom, but everyone seemed to do alright, even when there was a full house." Edy started to walk towards the kitchen and Vash fell in step. They made their way slowly to the stairs and then slowly up them, neither mentioning the unsavory pace but only chatting away again like they had in the kitchen.  
  
Vash talked now of the happy times of his childhood with his brother Knives and Rem, his surrogate mother, feeling it only fair since Edy shared so much during their prolonged dinner together. As with Edy, the version he told was heavily edited and Edy knew that, but she didn't press. They arrived at the bathroom; as soon as they were inside the spacious room Edy sat down on a small bench beside the tub, leaning over to turn on the water faucet. As the water began to fill the tub she twisted another couple of knobs set in the side of the huge basin, just above floor level. Vash assumed these controlled whatever heated the water, but didn't really care enough to ask. They continued to talk and he began telling her about how he loved to sit for hours with Rem and his twin brother when they were both younger.  
  
"Ah, siblings," Edy sighed, "they try your patience but you can't help but love them. I'm lucky to still have Isaiah around; do you see your brother often?"  
  
Vash grew silent in his seat on the edge of the tub. He played with the water behind him as he answered in a quiet voice, not wishing to lie to this kind woman but obviously unable to tell her the truth. There was just something about her that tugged at all his thoughts and secrets, making it hard to keep them hidden; he actually wanted to tell her everything, get it off his chest, and be done with it. It felt so good to finally talk to someone besides Knives or Wolfwood, like she was a neutral third party so removed from the dilemma that maybe she could figure everything out. Against his better judgment, he began to spill a large majority of the beans.  
  
"He had actually been staying with me for the past seven months or so; he had gotten really sick and needed someone to take care of him and I was the only one who could do it. Knives is. a special case. He doesn't exactly get along well with others and no one could really deal with him the way a brother could. He disappeared a few nights ago with hardly a trace and most certainly no clues; I don't remember exactly when considering how much of it has been a blur of sand storms, wandering, pain and unconsciousness. I'm really worried about him so I've been trying to find out where Knives went. Wolfwood's an old friend of mine, and a, well, an old business partner of Knives, so when he happened to find me at the bottom of a pile of Ravagers, he decided to help me find Knives. Long story short, we found you and here we are. And I still haven't a clue where Knives could be."  
  
The only sound that came from the bathroom for a while was the running water. At last that stopped when Edy pushed herself up off the bench and reached past Vash to turn the knob.  
  
"What can I do to help?" she asked at last, subdued but in earnest. She knew he wasn't soliciting her help, but she felt obligated to do something even if there existed no better reason than she understood the strength of sibling bonds. Her heart was breaking for Vash, thinking he must be worried sick over his missing brother.  
  
"You've done more than enough already to help," Vash replied, kind but firm. "Just getting Wolfwood and I back on our feet has been plenty."  
  
"Well," she reasoned, not letting the idea go now that it had entered her head, "if he's sick he'll need kelp when you find him. Let me come with you."  
  
"No. Not only is it too dangerous, Isaiah, Roscoe, hell, all of February needs you here."  
  
"Then at least come back and see me," she almost shouted, getting irritated my his perpetually calm manner. Too dangerous? She could take care of herself. One thing her father had been good for was teaching her how to fight; she was pretty handy with fist and firearm alike. Obviously he wasn't going to give in, though; too damn chivalrous, this one was. "I'll want to know how you're up to. Bring your Knives here for medical help if it's possible. You know how good I am; I'm better than any doctor in February, and probably on this entire planet too."  
  
Vash remained silent, neither answering or denying. He'd like to come back and spend some more time talking with this interesting woman, sitting in her pleasant kitchen, eating her wonderful food. Her life seemed relatively quiet but complete and she had plenty of people she cared for with both her hands and her heart. Vash cursed yet again his inexplicable ability to make friends with all the wrong people; wrong in the sense that they were too good to be put in danger through associating with him.  
  
Edy stood up suddenly and muttered something about the bath being almost ready and she needed to go to bed. She shut the bathroom door behind her, closing in Vash's plaintive stare and then stumbled, falling to her knees. Embarrassed, frustrated, tired, and in pain, she began to cry, unable to stop herself despite the fact that she knew Vash could probably hear her. She almost literally crawled into her bedroom and as quickly as possible changed into her bedclothes. Tears still streaming down her cheeks, she pulled herself into bed and lay awake for several more hours from the pain before she passed out, just before the suns peeked in through her window.  
  
Vash heard her crying and he wanted to run out and comfort her, but he sensed it wasn't his place to intervene; she'd probably get mad at him, madder than she already seemed. It tugged at him in such a painful way and again he caught himself wondering why this woman wanted to push herself so terribly far for his sake. She confused him too. He bathed for a long time, contemplating her as well as all the other problems that plague him.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Myshkin: Oh yeah, I finally finished my web page, so go check it out! (www.angelfire.com/indie/pendantliving0/index.html) It has the fic, some of my art (more to come, I promise!), as well as some other stuff. It's still trying out it's web legs so I hope everything works out ok. Anyways, enjoy! 


	9. Effectual Healing

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Myshkin: This story's not bad enough for an R rating now, is it? I think I'll kick it down to PG-13. If you have any problems with language, let me know.  
  
Tying Up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Effectual Healing  
  
In the middle of nowhere, a column of dust rose to meet the sky. Nothing but the two suns witnessed the small jeep as it crept along the terrain like a dirty, old beetle. If anything with eyes had actually watched this boring scene, they'd have noticed two small figures in the jeep; well, one small figure and one particularly tall one.  
  
"Meryl, we've been driving for days," the tall one whined. "Are we there yet?"  
  
The small one scowled and gritted her teeth, trying to hold back her rage.  
  
"Does it look like we're there yet, Milly?" she asked, her voice strained.  
  
"Nope, sure doesn't!" came the sunny reply.  
  
Silence fell once more over the vehicle and its surroundings.  
  
"Are we lost, then?"  
  
"No Milly, we're not lost."  
  
"Then where are we?"  
  
The jeep slammed to a halt, sending the tall girl forward in her seat, straining against her seat belt. The small girl sat there, hands griping the steering wheel with whitened knuckles and eyes staring focused on nothing but the horizon ahead. Her lips moved silently and one would almost think she was counting to ten.  
  
"Meryl?"  
  
"Look, it's a long way to February. The damn city's in the middle of nowhere, like everything else on this god-forsaken planet, and I can only drive so fast. If you have a better idea on how to get there faster, I'm game."  
  
The tall girl sat and thought for a moment before replying.  
  
"Nope, can't think of a single way!"  
  
She smiled broadly and her companion sighed, wondering for the hundredth time why it had to be her. The jeep started moving again and they were on their way.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Another figure was out and about that day as well, hardly watched over by an impassive environment.  
  
The wind whipped around Edy as she sped through the desert on Isaiah's motorbike. Her heavy duster streamed out behind her, flapping its thick self silly in the wind. Bug-like eyes peered out from the space between the coat's high collar and the dinged-up old helmet; thick goggles protected Edy's eyes from the dust.  
  
An unusual weight rested against Edy's side because of the old revolver that sat in her shoulder holster. She hated knowing how to use the damn thing but it this world one needed all the protection one could get. Edy had no idea what kind of a person she headed towards, some man sick and laying up in a cave in the middle of the wilderness. Isaiah actually was the one that insisted she brought father's gun with her when they talked that morning, before Edy headed out.  
  
She hadn't slept much, but her mind didn't seem to care what her body thought about that matter. Around nine o'clock she got up and got dressed, knowing she needed to go see about Isaiah's "foundling." Isaiah was up too, sitting at the kitchen table with a huge bowl of cereal and his nose stuck in a book. Beneath his feet lay Roscoe, asleep and probably dreaming considering the way his legs wind-milled in the air while his eyes remained closed. It being Isaiah's favorite morning ritual, Edy never complained about their quiet breakfasts together, usually taking the time to read the newspaper or whatever novel she too had become absorbed in.  
  
When Edy entered the kitchen Isaiah actually set down his book and handed her a piece of paper with directions to the cave written down in his messy handwriting.  
  
"You'll need to be on the lookout," he instructed in his most grown-up voice, "since it's really easy to miss. It's about a four hour ride, so if you drive for much longer, you've gone too far. And make sure you take this."  
  
Isaiah picked an aged, wooden box up off the chair beside him and handed it to Edy. She sighed, knowing he was probably right about it, but not wanting to admit it. Unsnapping the latch, Edy pulled the holster out and slid it on over her shirt, one of the ones with a removable right sleeve. She then pulled out a bundle wrapped in fine black linen, unwrapping the cloth to reveal the gun. Although it had seen numerous years, it had been kept in perfect working condition by Edy's father and then Edy herself, more out of habit than pride in the weapon; her father had trained her at a young age how to shoot and fight, telling her that in this world a woman couldn't rely on some man to ride to her rescue on a shining white horse.  
  
The gun reminded her of the ancient Western American stories her father loved to read to her so much when she was little. Whenever she pulled out the revolver, she pictured herself getting ready to head to the town square at high noon for a showdown. This thought always made her slightly sick to her stomach. Reluctantly placing it in the holster, Edy then shrugged on the huge, heavy duster that she had brought down with her. It was made of a thick canvas and acted as perfect protection against the elements. She pulled a pair of darkly tinted goggles out of the pocket and hung them around her neck.  
  
"It's alright if I take your motorbike, isn't it Isaiah," she asked on last time. Last night, when Edy couldn't sleep, Isaiah had come in and got into bed with her like he used to when he was little; they had talked for a while and Isaiah had mentioned that he wanted her to take the motorbike to go visit his "foundling." Despite the topic of conversation, it made her wistful, thinking of what her life had been almost a year ago.  
  
Back then, whenever Edy had a hard day Isaiah always said he knew that she needed a big hug, so big only he could give it to her. Edy enjoyed those nights when he would snuggle beside her and she would tell him stories to take her mind off the pain. The pain had been far less then, but still it bothered her and Isaiah had always been empathetic to her suffering.  
  
The night before was no different, except that for the last month or so Isaiah had stopped coming in on those nights when Edy needed him most. She told herself that he was asserting his independence and he was getting too old for those sort of things, but it still made her sad. Seeing his awkward young figure silhouetted in her doorway last night had raised her spirits significantly. Instead of a story, though, they talked about what Edy would have to do the next day to help the "foundling" in the cave. Isaiah had decided she would take his motorbike and he would stay behind to watch the house. Edy no longer had any worries about their guests, but Isaiah insisted. The fact that he had to be polite, fix them breakfast, and in general cater to them as any host should was stressed repeatedly by Edy; she didn't feel that it had made any impression upon the boy's mind, though.  
  
"Of course, take the motorbike. Her tank's full, I filled her up this morning. The sack by the door has everything you'll need. I packed a few extra things in case you had to stay over night. Be careful, okay?"  
  
Edy smiled and wondered when the roles of parent and child had become reversed. She said goodbye and told him to let the guys know that she hadn't abandoned them, that she had business to attend to. Isaiah only grunted in reply to this. Roscoe emerged from beneath the kitchen table and followed her to the door, a plaintive "take me with you" look plastered all over his doggy face. Edy scratched him behind the ears and explained to him quickly that there was no seat for a dog on the motorbike, and then left the house amid the jingles of the bells.  
  
The ride had been long, hot, and dry, passing far too slowly. About four hours straight on a motorbike had long numbed her rear and jarred his internal organs to mush, but she pressed on. Edy didn't like being away from the house for so long, and a foreboding feeling began to steal over her as she headed further away from civilization.  
  
Even if she wasn't ready, which she knew she wouldn't be, Edy planned to try and return as soon as possible after doing her work. She didn't know what type of individual would be holed up in an isolated cave, raving from a raging fever; not often did one find a mentally sound individual in such a situation. Even Isaiah felt uncomfortable with her going, and he had been the one to urge her to do this. Also, the fact that there was absolutely no way to contact anyone if anything did go wrong had begun to cross her mind since she had gotten an hour out of town; the thought had already worn a deep foot through her brain. Edy cursed her inability to properly think things through. Too much of her life was ruled by her heart and not her mind and that would probably get the poor girl in trouble one of these days.  
  
Checking her watch, Edy realized she needed to start looking for the cave. She noted the landmarks Isaiah had told her about when at last she came to a short hill of rock with a relatively small gap existing near its base, maybe four feet tall and three feet wide. That probably was it.  
  
Edy pulled up close to it and parked the bike. Cautiously, she approached the opening, unable to see very far in; the suns sat almost directly above her, spilling very little of their light into the mouth of the cave. Edy decided it best to call out first before entering.  
  
"Hello? Anyone in there? My name's Edy, sir, and I'm here to help. You talked to my little brother Isaiah?"  
  
There came a noise from within of something shifting quickly, sending gravel scattering with a dry rustle. Edy shaded her eyes, trying to peer into the darkness, but to no avail. Taking a deep breath, she knelt down and crawled inside.  
  
Her eyes adjusted quickly thanks to the soft light from Isaiah's lantern that he had left. The cave wasn't very deep, more of a hollow, but the ceiling did raise to a height closer to five feet and the walls expanded to roughly six feet in width once she got past the opening.  
  
He sat scrunched up against the back of the cave, about twelve feet away. As her eyes dealt with the low light she came to take in his appearance, growing more and more anxious as she did so.  
  
Soiled clothes clung to a thin frame; obviously once muscular, he had lost much of his mass in a telling fashion. Only filthy, holey socks covered his feet and his loose slacks were torn at the knees and several other places. Dried blood ringed the edges of these tears, revealing the nasty cuts and scrapes beneath. His t-shirt had probably been white at one time but now it was a dingy gray, with heavy sweat stains under the arms and around the neck. Stubble clung to his chin like fuzz on a particularly dirty peach and what had to probably be blonde hair stuck out in all greasy directions. A shock of black hair hung limp across his forehead, sticking to his sweaty skin. She couldn't even begin to guess at his age. All in all, this guy was a mess. He also didn't look too happy to see her; hatred oozed from his eyes, mixing with the early-morning eye crusties that ringed his lids. A most dehumanizing gaze raked across her body.  
  
Knives had heard a femanine voice call out and then saw this tall, canvas covered form make its way inside. A dinged up old helmet covered most of the figure's head, huge, ugly goggles its eyes, and a tall, stiff collar the rest of its face. It stooped there, staring at him. This was that human that the other one said was coming? If it was, he had no plans to allow it to touch him. The figure took off the helmet and goggles, then unfastened the coat, speaking in a soft, reassuring voice the whole time.  
  
"Sir, I'm Edy. My brother Isaiah said there was someone out here who needed my help, and you look to be the one."  
  
Only a blank stare in reply. Edy had removed her coat completely and tucked a few loose strands of black hair behind her ears. She hadn't had the time or inclination to notice the black had spread to the layer at her temple, climbing ever closer to her crown. Her long hair was pulled back into a loose bun again, but now most of the knot was dark as night. Not being aware of this fact she paid more attention to the direction the man's gaze shifted towards: her gun-laden holster. A smirk actually appeared upon his face for a moment, igniting a tiny spark of recognition in Edy, before he returned to the deeply saturated disgust and superiority. Who did he remind her of?  
  
Edy took a step forward and tried again, this time laying her huge bag on the ground and opening in to pull out and display its inoffensive contents as she attempted to illicit a better response.  
  
"I'm a healer. Isaiah said you were sick from an infected wound in your leg. He was really worried about you so I came all the way out here to help. Honest, all I want to do is help you feel better."  
  
A healer? Knives almost giggled, or would have almost giggled if he had been the giggling type. This human didn't call itself a doctor, so it was one of those types that chanted to some shiny rocks and burning herbs to make a person feel "all better." Ridiculous. This thing would be easier to dispatch of than he expected. Shifting his weight so that his left arm was blocked from its line of sight, he tried to form his angel arm but failed once more. Still too weak, and preoccupied as well. The human had begun to advance upon him, still talking in those infuriatingly low tones that were usually reserved for infants. It held in its out-stretched hand a mug of that stuff that other human had given him, the drink that had put him to sleep.  
  
"There now, drink up and you'll go right to sleep. When you wake up, everything will be all better, I promise. Your body will be exhausted, but whole, and a day's rest will take care of the fatigue."  
  
Knives had feigned taking the sleeping draught, and when the human had turned away, he spat it out behind a rock, the liquid seeping quickly into the dry soil. Although he knew he need its medical assistance, he couldn't possibly imagine himself allowing it to touch him; it wasn't even a trained doctor. He settled down, allowing it to think he had fallen asleep, and waited to see what it would do.  
  
The infection had started to eat away at his right thigh, so Edy pulled out a pair of shears and cut the disgustingly filthy pant leg away. She cleansed her hands and then the wound and surrounding area thoroughly to make sure no other germs could possible get trapped inside while she worked. She then rolled up her left sleeve and untied the right, pulling it off and setting it aside. Considering the extent of the infection, Edy knew her arm would require all the space it could receive. She folded up the blanket Isaiah had left and knelt on it, placing her right hand on the wound.  
  
Edy was so engrossed in her work on the man's leg that she hadn't realized he was still conscious. Still exhausted from the day before, it took all her strength and attention to do everything just right. The next few moments were such a blur that she couldn't even process them once they had passed.  
  
Knives felt the pressure increase on his leg and he wanted to retch; it was touching him. Summoning up his own energy, he kept himself still as his left arm at last blossomed into blades outside of the human's view. His eyes flew open and he sent his angel arm raking across its back; he was aiming for its head but Knives was still too weak to do much more than barely slicing into the human's flesh just below its shoulders, ripping its shirt and holster, sending the gun to the ground in a thump, and causing four roughly parallel, bloody lines to well up on its back. As Knives mustered his strength for another blow, he realized the human hadn't even noticed the first attack. He drew his arm up again, not caring about its ignorance of its plight when the last thing he ever expected to happen occurred.  
  
Snow white feathers erupted from the human's arm, starting at the wrist and then moving upward in a wave; the arm didn't form anything in particular, just a blossom of feathers engulfing the human's, no, the female plant's limb from wrist to elbow, the length of the top layer of feathers reaching almost to her shoulder. An incredible rush of power coursed through Knives' body, not unlike what he sensed when Vash performed a major transformation. Knives instantly withdrew his blades and tried to speak when every cell of his body seemed to attach itself to the woman's hand where it pressed against his leg, forming a sort of unbreakable seal.  
  
Knives lost almost complete control over his body; all he could do was watch as she began to glow gently at first and then brighter and more intense. He could see the strain on her face, the pain mixing almost tangibly with the sweat and tears, her eyes clenched as tightly as her jaw. And then the most horrible sensation in all of existence began, topping all that had come before and for a long time what would come to be.  
  
His heart began to pound faster and faster until it hummed in his chest. Blood coursed through veins at speeds faster than any vehicle ever created. Brand new white blood cells were ripped from their veritable wombs, created far too painfully fast. At the same time muscle, bone, and skin all began to regenerate almost instantaneously in a flash of blinding agony. His body vibrated, barely able to contain the raging fluids and cells. Everything was drawn to that woman's hand and shot back just as fast, following its frantic cycle through Knives' system. His ears popped, his nose began to run, and tears streamed unbidden from his eyes. Every pore oozed sweat. He could have sworn he felt his stomach digest each and every last morsel that it held at an obscene pace. Knives didn't have a clue what physical acts were occurring; he only knew for sure the intense, over- whelming stress upon the cells of his body systems. He couldn't think, he couldn't tell if he was breathing any more. And then there was an indescribable sensation, something akin to a "pop," except it was felt and not heard.  
  
His body slowed down to normal and he could control himself again. Knives gasped and jumped, his eyes wide, his left hand inexplicably clutching part of the woman's left sleeve that he must have ripped partially away; it hung by a small section, and as it turned out, her hand had unconsciously grabbed onto his left hand, trying to force it away. Wild-eyed he stared at the woman's still form, waiting for her to move while he drug in shallow breaths. At last she became aware of her surroundings and pulled away completely, shoving herself as far from Knives as she possibly could. Panting and shaking like a cornered, wild animal, she quite blatantly feared the man who should have been unconscious but obviously fell short of such a physical state.  
  
Knives was the first to recover the gift of speech, talking in a high, frantic voice akin to a gasping plea.  
  
"What the hell did you do to me?" 


	10. Breaking Up, Down, and Away

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Ten

Breaking Up, Down, and Away

It was nearly noon before Wolfwood opened his eyes again. Vash was no where in sight, but his sheets were mussed and looked as if he'd at least spent some time in between them last night. With an evil grin he wondered whom else's sheets Vash might have inhabited as well; that Edy woman seemed to have taken quite a shine to Tongari and the feeling looked mutual. No, of course not, the guy wasn't like that. It would be funny as hell to imply such nocturnal entertainments to his face, though.

Extracting himself from the warm, comfy bed, Wolfwood stood and stretched, taking inventory. The aches, pains, and pretty much everything else that plagued him from the past 48 to 72 hours were gone; like Vash, the hours were mush in his brain after their ordeal. His voice hadn't reappeared, though.

Wolfwood fumed the more he thought about the current situation; maybe nothing hurt anymore but he couldn't speak yet, Vash was probably goofing off instead of figuring out where Knives went, and god dammit, _where the hell were his cigarettes!! _

Realization that he had been going through nicotine withdrawal hit him full force at that very inopportune moment; in retrospect, his crankiness the night before made sense, as well as the headache that began to blossom all across his skull. Logically, he should have settled down, given Edy some credit for her miraculous works (well, a lot of credit) and leisurely strolled out of the room to go get some breakfast since no one could think properly on an empty stomach. No one who was addicted to cigarettes could think properly without nicotine rushing through their system either, so it all nullified each other and he began to storm out of the room. Their bags, which Edy had Isaiah bring in from the motorcycle that morning, stopped his fuming short. The Cross Punisher sat in the corner by the wardrobe.

Like a thirsty man to water he fell onto his knees and rummaged through his own sack, at last emerging triumphant with a rumpled pack and a lighter. Forgetting his hunger he rushed through out through the living room and into the kitchen only to stumble upon an odd scene. Isaiah, the boy who had been so cold to them the night before sat at the kitchen table, deep in conversation with Vash. The blond man had his big gun out on the table, pointing out and explaining the different parts and how they worked. It never ceased to amaze Wolfwood how quickly Vash could win the trust of anyone, especially children. He reminded the priest of a certain tall insurance girl they both knew; Wolfwood stood there, wondering for a moment what Milly was up to before he was spotted by his friend.

"Hey Wolfwood! You're finally up!"

The priest replied with a wave and a nod. He wanted to go outside and smoke, impatience making him antsy. Isaiah still looked at him coldly, like he had too many limbs or eyeballs. Then he chucked without warning a small notebook and pen to the taciturn man.

"Edy told me to give that to you if your voice hadn't come back. Guess it'll help you to communicate or something," the boy said with an indifferent air. Wolfwood uncapped the pen and scribbled a quick message.

__

Where's Edy?

Isaiah and Vash peered at the notebook. Isaiah was the first to reply.

"She's out on a job. She probably won't be back till late tonight or even tomorrow. Edy said I'm supposed to feed you, be hospitable, and offer the room again tonight if you both have absolutely no where else you could possibly stay."

Both gentlemen suspected the healer's words to be kinder and in a much more pleasant tone than the ones Isaiah used to interpret his sister's message.

"I told him we'd be delighted to stay another evening; we couldn't bear to leave without saying good-bye to Edy," Vash added with a big smile. Wolfwood jotted down a note for Vash's eyes only. The gunman blushed brilliantly when he read it and huffed, whining his response.

"You've got the mind of a fifteen year old, you jerk. We've got to pay her still and she's been very kind to us, that's all!"

Wolfwood laughed; it sounded like a dog panting, only air coming out without the sound.

Scribble, scribble, show it just to Vash again. _Knives?_

Vash frowned and shrugged. They needed to figure out what they were going to do, but not with Isaiah around, of course. Vash turned back to Isaiah and the gun tutorial. Frustrated, Wolfwood stalked quickly out to the front porch, lighting up before the door had a chance to snap shut. They didn't have time for this shit. 

The ships from Earth were coming soon, although no one knew the actual day, and if they didn't have Knives under control or under the ground by then, everyone would be in serious trouble. Wolfwood wanted to kill the bastard and be done with it, but he knew Vash would never allow that to happen. Obviously keeping him under house arrest didn't work so well though. Their options were limited and every minute they spent hanging around here was another minute Knives had to get farther and farther out of their grasp.

He dragged deeply on his cigarette but it wasn't enough to settle his nerves. Pulling out another, he lit it on the end of another, smoke both at the same time. For a minute or two he puffed away, gazing out into the distance and the town, alternating a depressing view of a dilapidated civilization with a depressing view of barren wasteland. Dammit, two wasn't enough. Wolfwood proceeded to light a third as the smoke began to encircle his head and the surrounding three feet radius; no wind kept the porch rather smoggy, at least around the chain-smoking fiend.

Wolfwood had plans to light up a fourth when the door opened and shut behind him and a slightly winded but more than slightly excited Vash dragging a surprised and ornery-looking Isaiah came out to join him on the porch.

"Tell him what you just told me," Vash urged the boy. Isaiah glared back and forth between the two, extracting his arm from Vash's grip and crossing it with the other over his chest. Vash pleaded some more, becoming more and more pitiful as the moments passed. At last Isaiah gave in to Vash's overwhelming pathetic power.

"I was just saying that the job Edy's at is to check on some guy I found in a cave about four hours from here. I stumbled across him yesterday morning when I went out exploring. He was real sick an' hallucinating an' stuff so I knew he'd need Edy's help. Vash, I don't get what the big deal is."

When Isaiah paused to argue with Vash, the so-excited-I'm-going-to-piss-on-myself-soon gunman jumped on him again. Wolfwood looked like he was patiently awaiting for all this to reveal its importance to him as he lit another cigarette off the end of one, successfully keeping three cigarettes going even after tossing a butt away.

"Go on, go on. Tell him who the guy thought you were," Vash begged. Isaiah gave him another withering look then answered Vash's plea.

"He thought I was his brother Vash for a while there, when the fever made him see things. But come on, how many Vashes could there be out there? How do we even know this guy's got a brother named Vash? Considering there's at least one other that everyone knows of besides you, you know, that Stampede guy, there could be others. I mean, jeez, how can someone lose their brother when the guy's in that kind of condition."

Vash blushed and looked absolutely miserable, since he was one to lose his brother, but Isaiah didn't seem to take any notice. Wolfwood couldn't get his notepad out fast enough but the look on his face explained his thoughts. He agreed with Vash's suspicions. At last the priest got his notebook out and jotted down a question for Vash.

__

Can we be sure it's Knives?

"Well, no, but can we risk letting him go if he's not?…. Oh god…. If it's him, what about Edy? Isaiah, what'd he look like?"

"Uh… Real dirty, probably tall if he stood up, blond hair I think, maybe a bit of black in the front, I dunno. He was a mess, filthy an' sick an' not good. It was also pretty dim in the cave, so I couldn't be sure." 

Vash and Wolfwood exchanged another one of those looks. Isaiah had no idea what these guys were talking about, but he got the gist of it: Edy was in serious trouble. He started to eye the beaten-up motorcycle that sat in front of the house, seeing it as his only possible mode of transportation.

He had seen a set of keys in the closet where Edy put the men's personal effects. Hopefully she hadn't put those things in the guys' room yet. The men were arguing, at least Vash was arguing and Wolfwood was writing frantically in reply, both ignoring the boy. Isaiah slipped inside unnoticed and scrambled into the front room where he had first seen these two idiots. In a cabinet under the counter top he found what Edy knew she couldn't pitch, exactly where he expected to find them. Among the scant number of items was a set of keys.

__

Bingo, Isaiah thought, _they _have _to go to the motorcycle._

Isaiah heard the jingle signaling the opening of the front door, followed by Vash's loud whining and Wolfwood's frenetic scratching. Isaiah hid just inside the door as they passed, heading to their room from the sounds of it. Taking the opportunity he launched himself though the curtain and out the front door, leaping onto the motorcycle and praying it worked similar enough to his motorbike. After a moment of examining it and a few attempts to get the huge bike to start, Isaiah was off and holding onto the behemoth for dear life.

The other two heard the noise and dropped what they were doing, running full tilt to the front porch only to see the receding backside of Angelina II with an extremely determined Isaiah riding on top.

"F..Fu..Fuck a baby thomas, that bastard son of a whore's pile of crap stole my goddamn…." This hoarse stream of cursing went on for a while as Vash stared in wonder and shock at the disappearing motorcycle and boy. Well, at least Wolfwood's voice was back.

* * * * *

Knives stumbled to his feet, hunched over because of the lack of space, and started to approach the cringing, whimpering, gasping girl. She was making obnoxious noise, like a cornered animal, yelps and cries, nothing intelligent. It had taken him a moment before he realized he no longer felt any pain in his leg; Knives then promptly fell to the ground, exhausted. The woman scrambled back further, her distressed noises increasing in volume.

In this state after expending herself, Edy wasn't much more than a feral animal. She couldn't speak and could barely reason above what any wild dog could. Right now all she could sense was danger and so she reacted appropriately. Despite the fuss and the cringing, she was readying her body in case she would have to fight, since flight obviously wasn't an option. Edy could only make small, sudden movements if she didn't focus her energy; it had been a immense task to heal this man, especially since she hadn't fully recuperated from the day before.

Despite being unable to walk and a feeling of fatigue in every cell and nerve in his body, Knives continued to move closer to Edy. He couldn't believe, nay, comprehend, the fact that some fever-induced vision of a woman he loathed could possibly know the truth about this young woman before him. His mind still reeled from the revelation. His hatred for the healer had completely dissipated, replaced by curiosity and turning cogs as ideas and plans already began to form in his mind.

Knives knelt before her now, his face about two feet away from hers, and stared, taking her all in. Most of her hair had fallen down around her shoulders, brushing the ground and covering much of her hunched and bloody self. She desperately held her shirt to her chest, trying to keep it across herself since the front had been ripped free from the back; her left sleeve tried miserably to take up the slack, but it didn't succeed. Somewhere in her scrambling she had lost her sandals and her bare feet dug into the sandy dust, trying to propel her body further away. Knives watched her as she squelched up against the wall of the cave, crying out and then gritting her teeth. Her eyes, wild with pain and confusion, stared out from behind black and blonde strands of hair. So much black….

Knives gasped, the realization standing fully on his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. She was more than half-gone, her life used up so much. This thought came in a flash and he moved to draw her to his chest in a moment of almost-sympathy; Knives didn't exactly regret his own actions causing her pain and fear, but he did feel sorry for her in some small way. It seemed the appropriate thing to do in the situation. 

His movements were halted with the heel of her hand thrust violently upward from under his nose, snapping his head back and sending bright red blood splattering everywhere. She had quite efficiently broken his nose.

Knives rocked back on his heels and then collapsed onto his butt, eyes squinched shut and his hands trying to keep any more fluids from escaping. Pain erupted across his face, its epicenter the now mangled nose. Still, he remained silent and patient, waiting for the hurting, bleeding, and tears to subside. 

Circumstances had changed so quickly in his mind, and the woman seemed disoriented, seeing Knives as a threat. This made sense considering the fact that he had tried to kill her moments before, while she only wanted to heal his wound. As the ability to think straight returned, Knives figured he should try to talk her down to a calmer state. Considering the extent of Knives' social skills and all the chances he had to develop then, this proved to be quite interesting.

"I'm not going to try to kill you… Anymore," he began slowly, his voice sounding funny because of the ruptured nose. "I did try to kill you, but that's when I thought you were a human."

Knives opened his eyes at last and tried to smile through the blood that still came from his nose, drenching his dull gray shirt in bright red. He cringed when he saw his own blood has splattered across her face and self as well and tried to divert his sight into her eyes. They widened but seemed to be more focused, their gaze more intelligent; things probably were beginning to come together in her mind she obviously had begun to regain herself, but that didn't mean she was going to relax any time soon And Knives, of course, had not the ability to affectively make her do so. Still, he had to try. 

A female plant outside of the bulb, like him and his brother…. Maybe if she could be made to understand; if she didn't, he'd have to take what measly amount of power she had left into himself anyways. He hoped not, though. She was very pretty and he wouldn't be opposed to propagating the species with her.

"You're far to special to die. I didn't know you were a plant and I acted in haste." He stared at her hair again, sighing. "Haste seems to be our best option now, though. How can you use your powers so blindly when your death stares to in the face?"

"I…. I don't know what you're talking about," Edy sputtered at last, trying to figure out what was going on without revealing too much to this strange and dangerous man. "What are you calling a plant? They're only bulbs… bulbs." She didn't know how he did it, but the pain in her back, the sharp, wet feeling of sliced flesh, he was the only one who could have done that. This guy really was delusional; it hadn't just been a fever. He couldn't be a plant, a monster like that. Isaiah wasn't a monster, he was a good boy; Edy knew this terrible man couldn't be like Isaiah. This guy was talking about killing her, sparing her life, the fact that she was dieing. How did he know she was dieing?

Knives watched the confusion and panic cover her face and it dawned on him. He drew up his shirt and found a relatively clean patch to wipe the remainder of the slowed stream of blood away before voicing his revelation, the salty liquid still heavy on his lips.

"You don't know what you are, do you? You're superior, a plant outside the bulb, free to move and act and use your power as you see fit, not how humans dictate its use for their own selfish needs."

"No, it's not like that; I'm not like that," she blurted out, her voice weakening and strength beginning to leave her.

Knives continued, ignoring her, knowing the denial had to be only natural.

"Your hair, it tells you how much life you've used, how much energy. If you don't use your power, you can live forever. Didn't you grow up too fast? Haven't you looked the same for a long time now? You have to have noticed the black in your hair growing more and more. Your life is beyond half over when you should be able to live till the ends of all days."

Edy couldn't breath. She didn't want to believe what this man was saying, but she was dieing, and she knew this for a fact. She slumped a little further down, the weight of everything falling upon her at once. It all fought for her attention now. Edy knew her father was only a human, she knew it. But she did grow very fast and mother never let her leave the house the first six years of her life, until she appeared to be an adolescent; Edy remembered that, remembered so much. She was never seen by another human being for years even though patients came and went from her own house. Her mind seemed to grow at the same rate as her body. Edy honestly looked like a twenty year old on her eighth birthday, same as she did at the present, and her mother always told her to never tell anyone how old she was, just to act how old she felt inside. It all made so much sense then, when it was just father, mother, and her in that house. It made perfect sense when that was the way she was raised. But how could it be? How could what that stranger say be true?

Like damned water unleashed, memories of her mother's death came flooding back into her mind and Edy cried out, collapsing from fatigue, stress, pain, loss of blood, and weighty revelations. Her mother….

Edy lay there on her side with her knees tucked up close to her chest and her bloody back turned to the strange man, sobbing wildly. She didn't know what was going on any more, if she could believe this man, if she could believe the lies she told herself all these years. She wanted to pass out so badly, but that relief never came. Oh god, how it hurt so much! 

For a while Knives simply sat there, resting, regaining his own strength, and watching her cry, and cry, and cry. 


	11. Fear and Loathing

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Eleven

Fear and Loathing

After crying herself into exhaustion, Edy lay there, unable to move and too tired to speak. She felt like vomiting but it would have taken too much effort. Panic filled her mind, allowing no rest. Edy didn't want to think any more, didn't want to go over and over in her mind potential outcomes of this situation; none of them ended in her getting out of the cave alive. The sensation of something gently swabbing her back all of a sudden made her cringe but she was physically incapable of pulling away.

"Please…. No…." she whispered hoarsely, her words being the only thing she had anymore to fight against the dangerous man. The almost tender cleansing continued without a response for several minutes. The only sound she heard was the occasional sloshing of water in a canteen, probably being used to soak whatever he was using to wash her back. Fear and fatigue made her want to sob again and a few more tears managed to trickle down her face before her body said that was enough.

Knives wanted so badly to be able to do what she could, to heal. The cuts were ugly, so bright and angry and red, very, very red. Knives knew they would leave scars and he hated the thought; Vash's body had been so badly marred that one could no longer detect his perfection and even he himself had a few scars of his own. She looked so lovely, so flawless, but now he had ruined her smooth skin. Knives gently, slowly washed her back with the corner of the blanket and some canteen water, fighting off the fatigue that tried to overtake his mind. Knives' body screamed from the onslaught of consciousness but he ignored it, tending to this newly discovered female plant.

"What's your name?" he asked, speaking again at last, deciding conversation was needed at that moment. The poor woman was still stressed and very upset. His question elicited no reply and asked again.

Edy didn't want to answer, but she wanted to survive this to see her Isaiah again. She remembered learning somewhere that if you give yourself a human face you had a better chance of escaping from the attacker with your life. She didn't think he'd listen to her, though; nothing she had said so far had seemed to penetrate his skull.

"Edy…" she began, but speaking only made the terror well up to the surface and she began to babble in the rough whisper that her voice seemed incapable of rising above. She needed to stay calm, but that was asking too much at the moment. "Oh god, don't kill me! Please, I just want to see my brother again. Isaiah, oh sweetie, I'm so sorry! Isaiah, he's…. Isaiah, he's too young, he needs me! Oh god…. oh god…. please don't kill me…. _Isaiaaah_!" 

Her words blended and burbled as she began to sob again with sudden and renewed force. All she could think about was what Isaiah would do, what he would think, how he would feel when he found out what had happened to her. She saw his face when he came across her dead body and could hear the breaking of his heart. Edy couldn't leave him alone, couldn't bear the thought of how much pain it would cause him. Her body shook violently with her weeping.

Knives paused in his washing, confused. This woman, Edy, she was so scared, far more than he even suspected. It also struck him that she mentioned a brother; was he the boy that had come before, the one that looked so much like Vash when he was young?

"I told you, I'm not going to hurt you any more," he replied, his voice little and quite shocked. "I don't understand, you're safe now."

Edy was so confused; she heard his words but she didn't believe them. What was going on here? Who was he?

A deep quiet fell over the pair again and Knives continued to wash Edy's wounds. He drifted into his own thoughts while Edy's centered around plans of how to get out of there and fast. Unconsciousness set in about a half hour later, minor relief for the scared, exhausted girl. She couldn't hold it off any longer, passing out before she could come up with a possible plan to escape. When, no, if she woke up she'd have her strength back, but so would he, and who knows what he would do to her as she slept. Still, there was nothing she could do until then.

* * * * *

Rodney was in a hurry. His boss had sent him to mail off a dozen packages of varying shapes, sizes, and weights right when he needed to get home; his wife had gone into labor only an hour before. Jumping out of the jeep, he left it running as he ran inside. As luck would have, only three people stood in line ahead of him and he was out within fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes turned out to be too long, because when he rushed out to hop in the jeep and hurry home, no vehicle sat their waiting for him. He just wanted to cry, the poor fellow.

* * * *

Vash looked unhappy in the passengers seat. Wolfwood glanced a few times at his friend's sour expression and quizzically posed the question on his mind.

"What? What's wrong?"

"We should have left the poor man some money or something; it wasn't very nice to just up and take some stranger's jeep," Vash said, going into full pout mode.

"Aw, come off it Tongari. We'll bring it back and drop it in the same place we found it, good as new. Think of it this way," he said with an almost mischievous grin, "if the guy was really Knives and if God wanted us to go stop him and rescue Edy, he would have provided us with a solution to the problem. Low and behold, he did."

"I don't think it works quite like that," Vash replied in his most disparaging voice. "I think we stole that man's vehicle."

"Well, no other option had presented itself until that point and not for our lack of trying, either. Of course, this all wouldn't have happened if that brat hadn't stolen my motorcycle."

"He probably put two and two together from the way we were talking and wanted to do something to help his sister. It was remarkably resourceful and brave of him; remarkably stupid, but brave all the same."

Wolfwood just shook his head and flicked a butt out of the jeep. Lighting up another one he decided it was time to address a pretty major issue that had yet to be resolved.

"So, if this guy turns out to be Knives, what do we do with him when we find him?"

"You'll get as far away as humanly possible and I'll take care of the rest," mumbled Vash in reply.

"You know it doesn't work that way, Tongari," the priest said, his temper slowly rising the more he spoke. "You pushed me and the Insurance Girls away when you needed us most. We wouldn't do anything that we didn't want to, and we wanted to help you. God, Tongari, you're such a selfish bastard!"

"I was just doing it to protect all of you!"

"And sacrifice yourself in the balance? Of all the people in the world, you're the one who deserves a break. You can't keep me from helping you and I'm sure if the girls were here they'd say the same thing."

Vash grew quiet and stared off into the distance. They drove along in a thick silence, neither speaking for a long time. They were about an hour behind Isaiah but they still had his tracks to follow on the amazingly windless day. Vash gauged the time to be about 1:30; if he remembered correctly, Isaiah said the cave lay about four hours outside of town. 

Anxiety grew in his belly, gnawing at his stomach walls, trying to find a way out. If Knives was in as bad a condition as Isaiah said this man was, then the chance of catching up with him stood on the side of probable; that he wasn't too worried about, aside from what the hell he was going to do with his brother when he found him. If Knives had any strength, though, the chances of them finding Edy alive narrowed with each passing moment. How long had she been gone?

Guilt took root along side anxiety and began to sprout, winding its thick stems around his heart and squeezing tight. If he had only watched Knives a little closer, if he had stopped his brother years ago, if he had somehow kept Knives from destroying the SEEDS ships, if he had been able to convince his brother that Rem wasn't responsible for Tessla's terrible life and brutal death, if, if, if…. At that moment he felt responsible for the deaths of everyone Knives killed and planned to kill when the ships from Earth arrived. And he felt horribly responsible for whatever suffering Edy had to now endure at the hands of his brother. If, if, if…. 

The drive ended up mostly silent and uneventful; as the suns almost disappeared behind the horizon they came upon Angelina II parked next to a motorbike, both besides a small opening in the rock. This had to be the place. Both men got out of the jeep, Wolfwood a shadow in black and Vash a flash of brilliant red; before they set out Wolfwood had returned the coat to him, saying that he couldn't ride into battle without it. Both had their weapons and wills ready as they approached the cave.

The suns dipped down and out of sight, gone before they could witness the coming scene.

* * * * *

Myshkin: Sorry so short; next one'll be a doozy, I promise.


	12. Maternal Instinct

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Twelve

Maternal Instinct

__

An hour before…

Angelina II rumbled to a halt beside the motorbike as well as the gap in the rocks. Isaiah hopped off and stooped to enter when he stopped; what was he doing? He had no weapon, no real way of fighting this guy. Edy refused to teach him how to shoot yet and they'd only just started a little hand-to-hand training. Isaiah was far from capable of protecting himself. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Isaiah shoved this from his mind, knowing the longer he hesitated, the longer Edy was in danger; she had already been gone for about nine hours now and a disgusting feeling of fear and panic had begun at the very base of himself and surged upward. His imagination terrified him as it jumped from scene to scene that he could possibly come to face inside the cave. Dammit, why'd he have to force Edy into something so dangerous?

Breathing in deep and fast, Isaiah ducked inside and halted, finding both Edy and the man asleep; everything seemed to have gone as expected and Edy was alright. He began let out a huge sigh of relief but it caught in his throat as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. A huge, dark stain marred the wall of the cave and the floor below it, as well as on the floor a few feet away. The blanket lay there, most of it torn away and the rest of it soaked, beside a filthy, gray t-shirt that had become a deep, primeval red down the front; the man now had Edy's huge canvas duster on, unfastened but wrapped around himself as best as possible, instead of the shirt. His face had bloomed into a brilliant mass of blues, purples, and reds that ringed the eyes and bridged the puffy, now-crooked nose. Isaiah stumbled to Edy's side to find the back of her shirt had been ripped way and he saw where the rest of the blanket went; it had been wrapped around her in wide strips that had already become speckled in blood.

"Edy, shit, Edy, wake up!" he whispered urgently, shaking her ever so slightly. She wouldn't open her eyes, no matter how hard he tried. Why did she had to be so damned stubborn? Holding his hand to her barely parted lips, Isaiah felt her breath upon his skin, light but existent; at least she was still alive. Isaiah sent up a thousand prayers to whichever god was listening. He tried to move her but Edy's body refused; there was no way he could lift her dead weight. His eyes frantically combing the cave for inspiration, they came to land on the gun still in its holster, the straps neatly cut.

Frantically Isaiah dove for the gun and pointed it at the bastard's sleeping form; it had to have been him, no one else could have hurt Edy and no one else but Edy could have hurt him. He paused, his hands shaking, knuckles white. Sweat threatened to loosen the grip of his hands on the heavy revolver. His eyes blurred as they began to tear up with rage at the man and at himself. Isaiah knew this guy was dangerous, that he needed to shoot him before he woke up, to get rid of the bastard, but he couldn't, he just couldn't. His resolve wavered when the man's eyes opened, causing Isaiah to snap the gun back to attention.

"You came back. Isaiah, wasn't it?" Knives' voice was calm and cool, tinged with curiosity. Edy called him her brother. Was he a plant too? They couldn't have come from the same bulb since they were obviously not the same age.

"You bastard, what'd you do to Edy?!" Isaiah shouted, his hands shaking, causing the barrel to waver uncontrollably.

"She called you her brother; are you her only family? You're the only one she spoke of when she was so upset."

Isaiah had no clue what was going on, why the man asked him these things. Try as he might to stop them, a few hot tears trickled down his flushed cheeks.

"Are you a plant or are you a human? I don't see how you could be her real brother if you were a either, but I want to make sure." He didn't dare consciously remind himself the reason why he felt such uncertainty, why he couldn't forget what his hallucination told him. Knives kept on telling himself that he simply didn't want to make the same mistake with Isaiah as he did with Edy.

"I… I don't understand," Isaiah stuttered, trying to play dumb, just like Edy taught him. She always told him to never say anything to anyone besides her that could possibly convey the fact that he wasn't human; Edy said if he did, they would take him away from her and she couldn't let that happen. Isaiah didn't want that to happen either.

"Of course you understand, you're not a moron; that much is obvious. No one growing up in a household that contains such expensive and ancient texts could possibly be stupid. It's a simple question that I know you have the answer for. Are you a plant or are you not?"

Knives shifted to get up and move closer but he was stopped by a sudden barrage of bullets. Isaiah fired three rounds, missing terribly but still managing to drive the man back. Even though the boy was a terrible shot and had fallen backwards from the shock of the recoil, Knives knew that even a monkey (an apparently less intelligent relative to humans, although he couldn't believe anything would be less intelligent that a human) could hit him if he was only a few feet away.

A stalemate had formed with Knives pressed against the back of the cave and Isaiah making quite sure he never shifted. Edy lay behind her brother, still unconscious. Time passed, slow and thick, weighing heavy on the gun in Isaiah's hands; his arms began to droop, but they shot back up every time Knives shifted ever so slightly. Most of the hour was spent in this particularly tense yet dull manner. Knives didn't even try to speak to him again until he noted Isaiah's strength was beginning to falter. They couldn't just sit there forever.

"You never answered my question."

"I'm a human, you sack of thomas crap, what else would I be?" Isaiah shot back, fed up with this ridiculous line of questioning. How did this guy know about plants and why did he care if Isaiah was one or not? He must be one of those bad people, the ones that want to separate him and Edy. He'd never let the guy take him away, never.

"Well now, that wasn't too hard, was it?" Knives said with a cold grin. Isaiah's marrow froze, chilling his very being. He knew he fell square into the deep end of the shit pool. The man's left arm shot out, shifting into a mass of blades headed straight in the direction of Isaiah's throat, heart, and gut. They would have sliced straight through the boy if it weren't for the fact that Edy had come around moments before to hear Isaiah's false confession and thrusted herself at her brother, knocking him to the ground. She felt the breeze caused by the blades as they rushed over her, just inches from her already torn backside. She lay on top of Isaiah, holding him down and refusing to let him up. Another draft sent her hair swirling as she felt the arm return to it's owner.

"Stop it!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, the sound ricocheting off the close walls, pounding all of their ear drums. Knives sat there, dismayed. He almost hurt Edy again; why did she have to meddle? Why did she have to have connections to this human?

"Edy, don't touch him. He's not worth your love or your life."

"Don't talk to me like you know me! Don't you fucking dare!" she seethed, fed up and in immense pain. Everything pounded relentlessly at her senses, her head, her back, her stomach, her legs, her entire body. Regardless she couldn't let this go on any longer.

"Well, how else do you want me to address you if I can't call you by your first name?"

"Don't call me anything; we're leaving right now and you'll do nothing to stop us. I never want to see your face again. If I so much as see you poking your crooked nose around me or the ones I love, so help me I'll screw up your spine next!"

Her face was livid and frightening; Isaiah had never seen Edy in such a state. She looked like a mother dog when her pup was threatened, an actual snarl curling her lips back in a particularly threatening and scary manner. If she had hackles, they'd be raised. She rose off of Isaiah, moving between the two males and then backing up, forcing Isaiah to follow suit. Knives couldn't believe the change that had come over this woman either. He could sense she was still in pain but she refused to show it, strength and fury flowing from her every pore and every trace of her fear gone. Edy no longer resided in a helpless position, holding more options now than just her words. She had the physical force to back it up.

Knives didn't want her to go yet, not without hearing her story and why she lived her life thinking she was a human; he didn't want to let the human with her to get away. The boy could be an excellent bargaining tool and then just as easily destroyed. Again he released his arm, sweeping Edy aside with the flat side of a blade and drawing Isaiah toward him with the flat side of another. It all happened so fast that before Edy knew it, she had to pull herself up, the wind knocked out of her chest when she hit the wall; that quick, Knives had his right hand wrapped around Isaiah's neck and his left ready to pierce his heart if Edy made the wrong move.

"No, no, no, don't you dare do that, you ass-wipe," Edy growled, taking as much of a ready stance as she could in the limited space, stooping low.

"Tell me the truth, then. You're a plant, aren't you?"

"What have you done to deserve the truth?! Why do you care so much?"

"I want to know who will live and who will die when the time comes. I had only been aware of my brother, Tessla, and I surviving outside the bulb but now everything's so much more complicated."

Edy's eyes widened, not knowing what this insane man could possibly mean. He talked of killing, and from the sounds of it, the body count would not be modest. She gave in, defeated; she couldn't allow Isaiah to be the first tally mark on the list. If he knew him to be a plant, Isaiah would probably live.

"If you even dare to harm my brother, you'll regret it," she spat out, her voice lower than the level of her eyes, which were trying to burn a hole into the ground at that moment. "Not only would you have to suffer from my wrath, your own conscious would eat you alive. Isaiah is a plant." She looked up to see the shock in Isaiah's eyes, and the disappointment. Knives dropped Isaiah, allowing the boy to once again stand in front of Edy, trying to play the protector despite the fact his terror had exploded from within his deepest self, causing his will to weaken. 

Edy, limping, put her left arm beside Isaiah and moved him behind her, moving closer to the man and the fallen gun in the process. His face, no longer so calm and cool, was a picture of distress, unable to keep his expression passive; again he had almost destroyed another sentient plant.

"And you? How can you not know what you are if you know what he is?"

"I still don't know what I am. Maybe I am a plant, maybe I'm not. My mother never told me why we could do what we could," came the bitter reply. Edy's toe brushed the revolver; all she had to do was bend over ever so slightly and….

"You were…. born?" You knew your mother?" Knives' surprise awed him. How many other plants were walking around without his knowledge? How many had he slaughtered unknowingly?

* * * * *

Vash and Wolfwood had been squatting outside the entrance to the cave, trying to assess the situation, but then it turned into the both of them listening to Edy's confession. They sat there, unable to say anything.

"Huh…." was all the priest could say before he rushed in; from the sounds of it Knives was caught off guard and he had no plans to let that opportunity slip past him.

"Oh god, if it's true…. her hair," Vash whispered to himself; the dusty ground evaporated beneath him at the realization. Using all his strength he pulled himself together and followed closely behind.

Wolfwood moved awkwardly in the confined space to shift around the Gardeners and get at Knives, two of his smaller guns trained on the man's head; the Cross Punisher had to be left outside. Within an instant Knives had one gun out of his hands and then the other. A flurry of blades headed straight for Wolfwood when Vash thrust his own angel arm around in a burst of feathers, parrying his brother's blow. Knives backed off with the appearance of his brother.

"It's true, isn't Chapel? You sided with Vash?" Knives' asked, his infuriatingly cold composure having returned.

"With Vash and the survival of the Earth ships," Wolfwood shot back. "You bastard, you think you're a god, don't you Knives? What a realm you preside over, filled with blood, death, and the bodies of those few you supposedly want to save. Legato and Elendira are the only ones left alive in your kingdom and they can't serve you now. I should have come in with my guns blazing and torn your body to shreds!"

"Wolfwood," Vash interrupted, more calm than he should have been, "please don't. Please let me deal with my brother in my own way."

Edy and Isaiah had watched everything in quiet disbelief and utter confusion; not losing her senses, Edy took the opportunity to pick up the revolver and stood ready for an open shot. The tiniest sliver of hope that she wasn't a plant had dissolved right there, no matter how ridiculous and remote is was, and she didn't know what she planned to do at that moment. 

She could lie to herself all she wanted that this man, the one Nicholas called Knives and the one that Vash called brother, was nothing like her; there were no feathers in his transformation and he most certainly couldn't heal with those blades. She could lie to herself that Vash was like her, his wing-like formation guarding his friend from the insane man. She could lie, and lie, and lie, but as soon as Vash said he was his brother she remembered all he told her about him being dangerous and all Knives had said about his own brother being another plant outside the bulb. 

__

No, she thought, _Knives is crazy. We're special, but we're not plants. Only Isaiah… Mother, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me that half of my being wasn't human? _Her father had been a human, there was no question. Now enough of it made sense to make her lineage clearer; not much, granted, but enough. Half of what resided in her resided fully in Isaiah, Vash, and… in Knives. 

The loud report from Edy's gun echoed through the still night air.

* * * * *

"What the hell are you doing, woman?" Wolfwood shouted when the dust settled.

Everyone's attention had turned to Edy who had shot into the very nearby ceiling of the cave, sending rock and dirt flying. This action also managed quite successfully to gain everyone's attention, as was the plan. Isaiah had fallen to his knees behind her and all he could do was stare. Wolfwood and Vash had shifted sideways slightly to turn and look at her. Knives had shifted just enough to the other side for it to work out just right.

Lowering her gun in a flash, Edy fired another round in Knives' leg, followed by the last bullet through the other. He collapsed in a sharp yelp of pain and blood; before anyone could surmount their shock, she pushed past them all and knelt over Knives.

"You're Vash's brother, so I didn't kill you. But you will come quietly and _maybe _I'll fix up those wounds; most certainly not with my hand," she said low and stern, flexing her right hand around the gun, "but I'm pretty handy with normal medicine."

"You… you," he sputtered, "what are you doing?! I'm like you, I'm your kin!"

"You're nothing to me, but I made an offer that I won't retract. You're going to be good now?"

Knives stared in confusion and pain, but mostly pain. He wanted to hate her so badly for what she had just done to him, but his ever-logical mind saw her reasoning clear as day at last. Still, he won't be locked away again; Knives spat at her feet. 

Taking this as his answer, Edy pistol whipped him and caught his unconscious form as it fell forward. She began to drag him towards the entrance of the cave when she came up against the silent and stock-still young men who could only stare at her in wonder. No one could really process what the hell just happened.

"Look, you're going to help me or not? We need to get him bandaged up and back home quickly. I only shot his shins, so the risk of dying from blood loss is a lot less, but if they're not splinted properly, he may never walk well again."

Vash only nodded and situated a hand under his brother's arm, the two of them squeezing through the narrow space with much difficulty and weighed down by a third, rather unhelpful person. Wolfwood and Isaiah watched them go, stared at each other open-mouthed for a moment, and then followed behind.

Somewhere, off in the night, a Ravager called out to its pack beneath the soft, slivered moons.


	13. Starting Over

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Thirteen

Starting Over

"That wasn't an idle offer before, when I said I would help you with your brother," Edy told Vash as the dark, barren night hurried past them, apparently having more important things to worry about than the two vehicles that toiled through its shadows. 

She sat nestled besides Vash, who in turn was squeezed in between her and Wolfwood at the wheel. They rode cozily in the front seat of the jeep, with an unconscious Knives stretched out all by his lonesome on the back seat and Isaiah's motorbike lashed onto the rear bumper with some thick rope that had conveniently been left in the jeep. Isaiah rode behind them on Angelina II, much to Wolfwood's grumpy disapproval, but it couldn't be helped. Edy was in no condition to drive, her body quickly tumbling downward from its adrenaline high, and Vash just plain didn't know how to drive. That left only Wolfwood and Isaiah to transport the vehicles and the entourage home. Naturally, Isaiah hadn't learned how to drive a car yet, so it had to be the way it was. That surprisingly failed to make Wolfwood feel any better, though. He constantly checked the rear view mirror to make sure his baby was okay in the hands of the inexperienced Isaiah. 

Vash had heard Edy's quiet words, but he didn't believe her. He turned, silent, and watched her as she strained to stay awake and upright, not allowing her tender back to touch the seat or her eyes to focus on anything in particular for too long.

"I never make a proposal if I can't follow it through to the end," she said, still waiting for a response from Vash.

No, it wasn't that he didn't believe her, Vash _couldn't _believe her; she was completely unreal. The past two hours had been spent trying to process exactly what Edy told him had occurred in the cave and what he saw for himself, but it never seemed to add up. Where in the world did this woman come from? 

"Edy," he said at last, quietly but still clearly distressed and shaken, "he tried to kill you and Isaiah both." 

"But he won't try again. Knives seems to actually care about plants, am I right?"

Vash answered her with silence. He knew that Knives had been drawing bulb plants into himself to gain more power, merging with them. He hadn't gotten very far along this path when Vash had confronted him, but that hardly meant he deterred Knives deterred from this plan. Edy and Isaiah were still at risk; Vash didn't know for sure whether Knives would be discouraged from absorbing them because they were sentient and therefore were without the complete power of a plant still within the bulb. Vash could never see what his brother's mind circled around. What did he have planned for the "new" plants?

He realized Edy had been staring at him for a while.

"I can't let you help. I just can't."

"I have an extra room next to mine that can easily be locked up; there's only one tiny window, too small for even Isaiah to squeeze through, skinny as he is. I'll be able to keep an eye on Knives. I'm a capable woman, Vash. I can take care of myself."

Vash wanted to laugh at this, but not because it was funny. It was one of those kind of laughs that wound itself tightly around nervousness and then sprung forth in an almost maniacal fashion. It was an impulse that he had to suppress. Vash knew well enough now that Edy could take care of herself. Knives' nose had been busted up pretty bad before they even got there, and then there was the whole shooting of the shins and whipping of the pistol…. Yeah, Edy definitely was a big girl, in a terribly frightening and yet strangely admirable way. 

"You and Nicholas could have the room downstairs," she continued, "and I can always use a little financial help from your rent payments."

"No, Edy…. Rent?" She had derailed him from his argument with an odd addition to the conversation. Far too businesslike and practical.

"Of course. I wouldn't charge Knives, naturally, but I expect you or Nicholas would be getting some sort of a job no matter where you would be staying, since you can't live for free. You could afford to pay a modest sum for room and board; it'd be cheaper under my roof than others, especially if you two help out around the house."

Again the temptation to laugh out loud began to steal over Vash, but this time it actually was spurred by the humor of the situation and not nerves. Maybe it was her honest tone or the fact that she was discussing financial matters when bigger problems were at hand.

__

She's so brave, and strong too, Vash thought, his admiration for this woman growing yet again. _She has no qualms about changing her life to help out a man that she just met only a few days ago._

"You make a tempting offer, but I still can't accept," he said out loud.

"Sleep on it one night at least. I don't understand the full extent of your brother's plans, but I do know a lot of people will die if nothing is done. I can't sit by and let that happen when I have a chance to help stop it from taking place."

Vash nodded at last, giving in to the idea of possibly considering Edy's proposition. Still, his insides were in turmoil. Edy wanted to help and Vash finally admitted to himself he couldn't do it alone; Wolfwood wasn't cut out for this kind of life and the Insurance Girls were out of the question. Oh, the priest would stick around for a while, but for how long?

He also felt a tiny bit of himself drop in disappointment. Edy didn't want to do this just for Vash's sake. She had other motivations, noble ones, but he didn't really factor into them. Shamefully, he shoved away this ridiculous thought.

"I'll sleep on it, then, if you insist," he said. 

"Good," murmured Edy, her strength failing her at last. She wanted to sleep so badly, but she could neither lean back against her wounds, to her right against the hard door, and least of all to her left against Vash. She wouldn't dare cross that line, being far too modest in some ways such as this, while oddly throwing reserve out the window in others; no personal contact on the second day of knowing a person except when healing was a good guideline to go by. Vash had already smudged the line a bit when he took her arm the night before; Edy had to remind herself that some people had no sense of personal space. This time Vash pulled out a gigantic personal bubble pencil and erased said guideline in a matter of moments.

"You look exhausted; you should try to get some rest since we still have a couple of hours to go," he said gently, shifting to drape his left arm across the back of the seat. "Lean against me so you don't have to put any pressure on your back."

It was all very innocent and only done so that Edy would have to suffer a little less, but it still threw her for a loop. Blushing, she tried to refuse but Vash insisted that she needed sleep. So Edy tentatively leaned over, settling her torso and up on the young man's lap; he tenderly placed his right arm under her neck, cradling her head and making the position more comfortable. 

Unconsciously, Edy let out a small sigh. The night had been cold enough as it was, but with only the thin top to the jeep, it had become even more frigid with the winds thrashing around the vehicle and finding any available crack or crevice to tear through. Heat radiated from Vash's body, comforting her much in the same way as a hot water bottle her mother would set between the sheets did on those chill nights during her childhood. She breathed deeply, relaxing slowly until she sat on the very edge of waking and dreams.

__

He smells like… like something I can't quite place my finger on, Edy sleepily thought to herself. _Strong, old, and sweet, but not too sweet. Kind of lovely…_

And then Edy drifted of to sleep.

* * * * *

Edy awoke in her bed the next morning, bleary and forgetful. She lay on her stomach with her cheek pressed into the pillow, an unusual position for her to sleep in. What had happened yesterday that had made her so sleepy and sore? Rolling over, her eyes shot open completely as it hit her quite suddenly, dull pain turning into a sharp slap on the back. She couldn't help but cry out in shock.

The door flew open as Vash came tumbling in, panic splashed across his face like the bits of shaving cream still on his left cheek; she could still hear the faucet running in the bathroom. Edy struggled to sit up and end the throbbing ache but she could only manage to roll over again, sucking in deep breaths. Vash hurried to her side, sitting on the bed, gently stroking her head and talking softly to calm her down.

"Shit…" Edy gasped mostly to herself, "How could I forget all that?"

She lay there, collecting herself and burning with embarrassment because of the fact that a man had come running when she had yelped. God, how humiliating; Edy needed a big strong someone to make her feel all better. Still, Vash's gentle touch and soothing words helped calm her down until she could push herself up to her knees.

"Are you alright, Edy?" Vash asked, concerned.

I'm good," she answered with a smile that indicated otherwise but you'd be asking for a beating if you probed any further. "Jeez, what time is it? I can't believe I slept this late. Where's Knives? Are you staying? Is Isaiah okay?"

"Hold it, sister, you're going to have to settle down," he laughed. God, this woman hated to relinquish control. You try to be nice and let her sleep in for once probably in her entire life and she leaps onto your case the instant your within range. Vash then grew serious, his sadness weighing him down to the ground before her very eyes.

"Knives wanted to speak to you; he actually wants to stay here himself, too, if he has to stay anywhere. I still don't think it's such a good idea…"

"Maybe it isn't, but what else are you planning to do?"

Vash didn't say anything. Edy smiled gently as she pushed herself out of bed, her look into his eyes softer than the words in her reply.

"I thought as much."

Edy shuffled to the closet and slipped inside, closing the door behind her. Vash sat there for a moment, deep in thought, before getting up to finish the task he had been in the middle of before he heard Edy cry out. Vash had spent the night sitting outside the doors of both Edy and Knives, their two rooms side by side. Edy had been right about the extra room; it would be a good place to keep Knives, with the addition of a few more dead bolts, locks, and the like. Keep him for how long exactly, Vash had no clue. The ships were coming in a few months, give or take, but what were they to do with his brother when they got here?

Watching the water spiral down the drain, Vash stood in Edy's bathroom, razor in hand. He had been in the middle of shaving and had been lucky enough to have not cut himself in surprise. Now he slowly finished the job, rinsing his face and patting it dry, waiting to hear the sounds of Edy's footsteps in the hall. Vash didn't want her going to talk to Knives alone, not yet if ever. There they were, a light, muted thump-thump on the rug-covered floors. Vash stepped out and caught Edy's eye as she placed her hand on the doorknob. 

"Wait, let me go with you," he said, moving besides her quickly. Edy didn't fight him; she really was quite nervous now to face his brother, the man who had been so completely different from Vash as chocolate was to arsenic. Vash quickly unlocked the door and they hurried in, closing and locking it just as fast behind them.

The room sat in a semi-darkness, the small window only letting so much of the morning light in. There, in the bed, sat a still figure propped up on several pillows. His head tilted back onto ones that rested higher against the headboard, and at first Edy thought Knives was asleep. Then he spoke.

"My legs hurt."

"I'll get you something for the pain," Edy replied, neither kindly nor coldly. "I'll have to clean them up and then you can get some rest."

Edy turned to leave, planning on getting the supplies necessary to properly cleanse and splint Knive's shins; she was assuming she probably hit bone with her shots, so in all likelihood they were broken. His chill voice made her stop again.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because, as far as I can see, it's the right thing to do."

"I don't mean helping Vash detain me."

"Then what…" she turned around to meet his eyes. They were so cold, so much more hurtful than Vash's. Realization that they were identical twins hit her on the drive home the night before and she saw the striking similarities, but noticed more closely the subtle differences. These differences were the only way she could keep prejudice against kind, wonderful Vash at bay; it wasn't fair to dislike him just because his brother was a psychopath. You can pick your friends, you can pick your fights, hell, you can even pick your nose if you were so inclined, but you can't pick your family. 

"Destroying yourself for the sake of humans. I'm sure the only gratitude you receive for your sacrifice is superficial and would be forgotten the instant they found out you're different from them, superior. Xenophobia is inherent in all humans."

"My answer's the same as before."

With that, Edy left the room, forcing herself to do so slowly, without betraying any emotions to either brother. Outside though, once the door was closed and locked once more, Edy sagged against the door as if exhausted from the short exchange.

"Edy…" Vash began faintly, before she interrupted him.

"Is it true, Vash? Your hair, is it what tells you you're dieing?" she asked, her voice trembling but trying to fight against it. She eyed his own darkness at the back of his head as he nodded slowly.

"And this happens because I heal people?"

Another nod. Vash turned, looking at Edy with hurting eyes; that was another difference. His eyes seemed greener, ever so slightly, a softer, more empathetic color than the icy, hateful blue of Knives' eyes. She returned his gaze for a moment, standing so close to him at the top of the stairs. Suddenly she smiled.

"Well, I'd better go get a few things to fix up Knives' legs. Tonight we'll have a long talk, mister; you've a lot of explaining to do," she said with a waggle of her finger as she began to descend the stairwell, good humor firmly in place. It was all an act and Vash knew it. He had one of the best acts around when it came to hiding one's heart and could easily see through another's.

"Edy…." Vash tried again, and for the second time Edy ignored him and spoke, as if she desperately wanted to not hear what Vash had to say.

"Will you call on the locksmith?" she called back up the stairs. "I'll write down directions for you; we need to make sure that door's as sound as possible. Actually, why don't you take Isaiah with you? He could probably use some company right now."

Vash just sighed, giving in, and followed her down the stairs.

* * * * *

Myshkin: Xenophobia is the fear and hatred of anything foreign or different, in case you were curious. ^_^

**Special note to Trigunner69 (and anyone else who's interested in the Trigun manga)** "Make a Little Light Bulb in Your Soul" () is a great site to find tons of information about/translations of the manga; you can also buy it from the woman who runs the site at a very reasonable price. The manga has not been translated as of yet but it's far too incredible not to own, even if you have to look up the translations online. The series is still going to date and can be seen in "Young King Ours" over in Japan (but you can get it delivered here). There are also some scanlations at MangaProject.cjb.net (www.mangaproject.cjb.net) but they only cover Trigun vol. 1-3 and Trigun Maximum vol. 1 & 2 (ch. 1), I believe. Of course, I'm not the be-all, end-all of Trigun manga knowledge, but I hope this gives you a start in the right direction. 


	14. From the Mixed Up Memories of Ms Edwina ...

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Myshkin: Hope no one got any cavities from the last chapter; here's a trip to the dentist for you if you did.

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Fourteen

From the Mixed Up Memories of Ms. Edwina M. Gardener

Vash and Isaiah had left for the locksmith's and Wolfwood decided he needed to drop the jeep off where they found it, but not before he cleaned it up a little bit. Edy couldn't help it if her back was a little oozy and that was understandable, but she was pretty much solely responsible for the Knives mess on the back seat. With the boys out and about that meant the only three souls in the house were Edy, Knives, and Roscoe, who was still pouting about being left alone for so long the day before but was about two more snacks away from complete and utter forgiveness. 

Edy stood outside Knives' room, unable to make herself enter. With an inquiring and far too adorable to ignore cock of his head to the side, the dog managed to relieve some of Edy's nerves. Knives didn't want to hurt her, although he probably didn't like her too much right then, she told herself 

__

At least Roscoe would be there to help with back up if necessary, she laughed to herself; he was extremely good at backing up (and out of) scary situations as quickly as the circumstances called for. Besides, if she didn't tend to Knives soon, things wouldn't go so well for the petulant plant. Not that it would bother Edy too badly.

Lord only knows why, Edy knocked. This guy didn't deserve courtesy but Edy had just given it to him. Good habits die hard.

"Come in," the curt reply shot through the door.

Edy entered, her arms full of a tray piled high with necessary items for the task at hand. She double-checked the lock and then approached the bed, managing to balance the tray on one arm and her hip while using the other to pull back the comforter. Knives simply sat there in a clean t-shirt and old slacks cut off just above the knees, watching her as she worked. 

Neither spoke, Knives occasionally gasping or gritting his teeth from the probing pains. Edy hadn't given anything to dull it but Knives' tolerance for pain had risen dramatically in the past few days. Most people would be crying like a small child under this kind of ministration, but he refused to give her that sort of satisfaction. Of course, all the self-control in the world couldn't stop him from crying out in a hail storm of curses when she set the splints around his shins.

After finishing the slow, dirty, tedious work, Edy wiped her bloodied hands off on a towel and then used a clean corner to dab the sweat of off Knives' brow. She did all this in a brusque manner, not at all like her usual, kindly, professional self. Handing him a ceramic cup with the same potent sleeping draught as before, Edy stood, collecting the rest of her things. Knives took the cup but refused to drink, staring at her.

"You'd better drink up; you'll need your rest if you want to heal."

"But don't you all want me to stay awake? To never get better? It seems that you and Vash have similar ideas; cripple a person and chain him to a bed, that's the humane way," Knives muttered and then laughed, short and harsh. "Don't kill their body, just their soul, and very slowly at that."

Edy felt a twinge of guilt. He had a point…. 

"Do you like to read? I'll bring you some books if you promise you'll go to sleep now."

"Books are fine and all, but after staring at them for seven months straight all one could ask for is a little companionship, some company," he admitted to Edy as if it were a big secret, trying not to sound too calculating. "Vash hardly had time to talk to me; there were times I thought I would go mad if I didn't hear a voice, my voice… any voice."

Knives had been staring at the cup folded in his hands, resting in his lap. Choosing what he felt to be the proper moment, he looked up and straight into Edy's eyes. Pity looked back at him; she had a heart softer than his brother's, despite the frigid exterior she had turned towards him. She sighed.

"Drink up. I come back when Vash returns and us three, we'll have a lovely little chat," she said as she headed towards the door. "There's plenty that I need to know that I don't yet, and you two seem to be the ones to fill in the gaps."

"What is it you want to know about," he asked her retreating form, getting her to stop.

"Plenty of things, starting with what exactly are we and ending miles away with things I can only answer myself. How much of that can you two can satisfy, I don't know."

"I'll try," Knives said, just before the door clicked shut and locked. In the half-light he smiled to himself. She was impressionable and blank, like a freshly-gessoed canvas; Isaiah too, he would bet. They had started out in an unfavorable position, but with some time he could change that. 

He didn't have much time, but Knives knew patience was his most important virtue. Vash had taken away the strength he received from their kin, making things so difficult, but Knives refused to believe he had failed when there was still time, no matter how little there was of it. Knives would heal, regain what was rightfully his, and send the ships straight to Hell. 

Edy and Isaiah would help him do this, too.

* * * * *

Edy stood there, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Waves of blonde and black rushed downwards, crowding her face, covering her shoulders, trailing down her tender back, her chest, ending at last just above her rear. She couldn't remember the last time she cut her hair. That's right, she never had; Mother had given her last haircut only a week before the woman passed away. Committed suicide in a way.

__

The more you use your abilities, the blacker your hair will become until there is no blonde left. Then your body dies, echoed Vash's quiet voice in her head. 

It was late, or early, depending on your point of view. The conversation between the two brothers and Edy had lasted much of the afternoon and all of the evening. Left to fend for themselves, Wolfwood and Isaiah reheated leftovers for dinner and spent most of the time ignoring each other.

__

I thought you said plants are immortal, had been her reply.

__

Only if they don't use their powers.

How old are you two?

Old. Well over a hundred years old.

She wondered how old Mother had been. In retrospect, her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother were probably all one in the same. It must have taken quite a bit of work to pull that scam off.

Edy was only 28, although she looked exactly like she did 20 years ago. Mother's hair had been almost completely black during Edy's entire lifetime, but Edwina had worked twice as much in 8 years as Edy had in twenty. Edy's hair had changed so much faster, gaining speed in the past few months especially. The intensity of the healing sickness had increased threefold as well. Mother never had healing sickness, just a headache; sometimes she went and laid down, too drowsy to stay awake, but never as much pain as Edy. 

Apparently the part of her that was human couldn't handle the strain. At least, that seemed like the most plausible explanation to Edy; she didn't share this idea with the brothers, and kept her father's identity secret as well. Never talk about yourself.

__

Why are we here, outside of the bulb, she asked.

__

Who knows? 

Weren't you born, Knives had said.

Yes, Edy was born. Edy had been born and reared by her biological parents, and no one else. She never questioned her normalcy, never questioned her parents or their decisions, never questioned anything. Never questioned, that is, until the first time she met a child, a real human child.

Mamma_, she had asked that day, _can I go to the store with you_? Mamma looked at her and smiled, nodding. _

You know, Edy, you mustn't talk about yourself to others, though, _Mamma had reminded her. _

I know, Mamma. I'd be rude if I did, _she had replied. Mamma always told her that now that Edy could leave the house. Every single time she told her. Edy knew it backwards and forwards, and never disobeyed Mamma. In her seven years, Edy understood so well everything Mamma and Papa had told her; they said it was because she had been born so smart, so precocious. They told her she was so special that if anyone knew, they would be so jealous that they would be mean to her, maybe even hurt her. So Edy never talked about herself. She had become such a good listener, and read so much that she didn't need to talk about herself; a vast wealth of information swam through her brain, all of it far more interesting than who she was inside._

The cold handles of a pair of shears bit into her palm; Edy didn't remember when she picked up the scissors, but there they were. She had no idea what she was going to do with them, but she had them in hand anyways.

__

The store was crowded that day; Edy had been too nervous to actually go in with Mamma. Too many people. So she sat on the stoop out front, reading. A little boy came up to her, blanketing her in his little shadow.

Whatcha reading? _he had asked her. She told him Dostoyevsky. He looked at her funny and told her bless you. Edy couldn't understand why. He looked to be about four, by her personal reckonings, and she had already read _The Idiot_ twice by then. _

How old are you? _she questioned on a whim. It bothered her that he hadn't heard of Dostoyevsky yet. Didn't everyone know about the Ancient Russian author? Hadn't everyone read the same books as she had, the ones mother insisted on her reading?_

I'm ten, gonna be eleven in a week, _he said._

__

Edy just smiled in reply, confused. She talked with Mamma and Papa a long time that night, trying to understand. They just told her she was special again and to never let anyone know it. It didn't help her feel any better like it always did before. She knew she wasn't special then, she was different. That didn't always mean the same thing.

Without even realizing it, she had gathered her hair up into one large pony tail, shears open and ready to snap down, separating the long tresses from their roots. Edy closed her hand, working again and again to cut through the masses of hair. At last the majority fell to the floor in a heap, the remainder hanging ragged at her shoulders. Edy repeated the process again and again, with smaller sections this time.

__

The day Mamma died had been cold and dark, unnaturally so. A woman had been brought in with labor difficulties. They believed the child to be dead already, but the infant's body had become lodged in the birth canal feet first. The midwife couldn't do a thing. Edy watched from the dim hallway as they carried the woman into the front room, her frantic cries filling the house that had been so quiet all morning.

Papa had watched them come in, standing next to Edy, but when Mamma had went to follow, he grabbed her by the arm, tears coursing down his red, rugged face. Edy couldn't hear most their conversation but could see how upset Papa was; Mamma was sad too, but not so angry.

I know what you're planning to do, _Papa had said. _What about Edy, _he said. _What about me, _he said. Mamma shook her head and pulled away. Papa had gently touched the sparse blonde streaks in her long bangs, one on each side of her middle part, each no wider than a pinky. Mamma was crying then too._

This is our way, one of endless sacrifice and salvation, _Mamma choked out, not too loud, but enough for them both to hear in the hallway. Papa was furious; he slapped Mamma, something he had never done before. Mamma just looked at him like she understood, and then went to tend to the screaming woman. Edy ran to the kitchen, out the back door, off into the empty wilderness. She cried and cried and cried, not knowing why, only knowing everything was wrong. So wrong. She didn't come home until long after dark, returning at last to find the baby had miraculously been revived but her Mamma's touch, but Mamma had died. Mamma didn't make it._

Mamma left us, _was all Papa could say. _Mamma went away for good. We're alone now, sweetie.

Edy sat there among the pile of hair that had once been her own. Not much remained on her head; she had cut frightfully close. Nothing was longer than an inch, a soft, fluffy cap of hair that encircled her head, the bottom two-thirds black, the top blonde. She didn't cry, she didn't say anything. She just sat there, thinking, until Isaiah found her in the morning.


	15. The Unveiling

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Fifteen

The Unveiling

The morning had reached into Isaiah's room and rudely shoved open his eyelids, yelling at him to get up. It could only have been an hour after dawn at the most, but he was restless. Edy had spent a long time in Knives room with the brothers, so long that even Isaiah couldn't stay awake long enough to hear the familiar sounds of his sister getting ready for bed. Yawning and stretching, Isaiah popped his back before getting out of bed, relishing in the sound and the sensation that traveled up his spine.

Padding down the hall, still in his pajamas, Isaiah pushed open the bathroom door, expecting to find nothing out of the ordinary. Edy sitting among the remains of her thick, long hair certainly rated as extraordinary, and complete consciousness slapped Isaiah out of his fuzzy state. He stood there for a moment, staring. Edy stared back, then smiled her normal smile, happy smile.

"Morning, sweetie," she said, trying to be cheerful while beginning to gather the hair up from the floor. Dark circles ringed her eyes, exhibiting her lack of sleep. She wore the same clothes as she had the day before. Isaiah had no idea how long she had been here like this, but it scared him. It scared him a lot.

"Edy…" he started, and then fell to his knees, throwing his skinny arms around her neck, burying his face beneath her jaw. His cheek used to meet hair when he hugged her before, when she wore her hair down. Nothing, only smooth skin that smelled slightly of sweat and felt a little greasy against his own. 

"What'd you do? Edy, what's wrong?" he cried out, his voice muffled against her neck.

Edy had automatically put her arms around his thin frame, holding him to her. She didn't know why Isaiah was so upset, but after a moment of thought, she realized it had to have looked pretty frightening. Like she had gone crazy. Edy hadn't lost it, cutting her hair off just seemed like the thing to do at the time. All she needed to do was to get rid of all that oppressive hair. It didn't bother her anymore that so much of it was black, and that darkness continued to stare her down. 

She'd come to grips with that fact. Everything about it felt different now, lighter. No longer a burden. Her mother's words to her father, the last thing she ever heard the woman say, they made sense now, or least had they had begun to. Resentment towards her mother's act of abandonment, how she had always seen it before, it had started to melt away, slowly but surely. Edy had done a lot of thinking that night.

"Oh Isaiah, baby, it's alright, it's okay. I just needed to make a change and get my thoughts in order, that's all," she whispered, stroking his head, trying to soothe him. He had never seemed like such a frightened little boy in her eyes than he did at that moment. When they were facing Knives she knew he had been terrified, but he hadn't lost his relatively brave face. Here he was, crying in her arms, so confused and unsure of what was going on.

"Sweetie, everything's all different now, and I'm sorry. I should have asked you if it would be alright before bringing this life-altering burden into the house. I didn't think, I just didn't think. Don't hate me sweetie, please don't hate me."

"I don't hate you," he sniffled, sitting up and away. He kept his eyes down, refusing to look at her. "I'm just so mad! You scared me! I thought, I thought… I don't know what I thought! I just knew it wasn't right. You've been scarin' me a lot lately and I just don't know how much more I can take!"

Edy shifted her position so she could pull a handkerchief out of her back pocket. Wiping the tears and snot from Isaiah's face with one hand, Edy gently cradled his chin in the other palm, making him look her in the eyes. 

"Never in a million years do I want to do anything to upset you. And I don't want you to ever resent me, either."

Isaiah looked a little confused. He really didn't know what she was talking about now, but he felt she had reasons, an explanation, so he listened without a word.

"I did a lot of thinking last night, about how I was raised, what Ma… Mother and Father told me, and I know they didn't handle any of it very well. But I do know they loved me and they tried to do their best for me, and that's all I can hope to do for you. We've got a lot to talk about, sweetie, and I've got a lot of explaining to do," she said, smiling again, a lighter, happier grin. "That's all icky serious stuff though and we've had enough of that for now, right? Let's get some breakfast; I'm going to clean this mess up really quick and then we'll go fix something large, fattening, and terribly, terribly delicious."

* * * * *

"So, what'd you three talk about last night, as if it's any of my business," Wolfwood asked his sleepy friend as they shared the sink in the guest bathroom on the first floor. Vash stared blearily at the priest in the mirror, taking a few moments to process the question.

"Lot of things," he mumbled in reply. "Plant things… and stuff."

"Uh huh. Sounds dreadfully fascinating. I know I can talk about 'stuff' and 'things' for hours on end; I also always make sure to bang around the room I'm sharing with a friend really loudly when I'm finally finished talking at some ungodly time in the morning."

Vash peered through half-open lids, unable to register Wolfwood's sarcasm.

"Wha?"

"Forget it, Tongari. Next time just turn it into a slumber party and leave me in peace."

"K'."

Wolfwood finished washing his face and headed out, leaving the stupefied blonde to figure out on his own that toothpaste leaves some killer razor burn when used as a shaving cream. Following his particularly large nose, he wandered into the kitchen. 

There he found Isaiah laughing rather maniacally while chucking what appeared to be dough balls at a newcomer who had to take cover under the kitchen table. Chairs sat (and in some cases sprawled) around the room and flour adorned most surfaces. The entire kitchen had been turned into a giant mixing bowl with what remained of its contents still clinging to its sides.

Several things popped and sizzled on the stove top and the delicious aroma of something sweet and baked emanated from the oven. It seemed that everything had gone unheeded, but Isaiah would turn from his quarry occasionally to flip or turn something, adding things here and removing other things there. Whenever he did so, the boy usually received a wad of flour and dough to the back or the head, the dues he had to pay for turning his back on the fight.

Wolfwood just watched, amazed by the brazen waste of food. He could almost hear Edy's temper rocketing through the roof when she found what Isaiah and his friend had done. Catching a glimpse of short hair or a slender arm from time to time, the only thing Wolfwood could tell about Isaiah's pal was that he had waded into some deep thomas crap through his role in this mini-epic battle. An evil grin spread across his face as he imagined the ensuing rampage when the matron of the household returned.

"That's…" Isaiah gasped between peals of laughter, "that's enough. I'm never going to get anything done with you actin' like a two year old! Shit Edy, you're such a brat this morning! An' look," he said, motioning to Wolfwood with a wave that sent a cloud of powder flying, "you woke up Mr. Wolfwood."

Wolfwood tried to discreetly pick his jaw up off the floor as Edy crawled out from under the table, laughing and covered in flour from bottom to newly-shorn top. When the hell did that happen? Edy noticed his stares and blushed, giggling self-consciously.

"You like the new 'do, Nicholas? I'm surprised you noticed; you're more perceptive than most males."

"Come on Edy, now that was just sexist," Isaiah jokingly protested, turning back to the task of making breakfast.

__

That must have been some talk, Tongari, Wolfwood thought to himself, shaking his head. Out loud he offered to help with breakfast.

"Don't worry about it, Isaiah's got the cooking and I really need to clean this mess up myself. I'm sure you understand how things can get when words no longer carry the full impact of your argument," she laughed again, motioning to all the disorder around her, as if that explained everything away. 

__

She's awfully giggly today, Wolfwood thought,_ not at all the same woman as the day before. The Edy yesterday had the ability to bring Knives violently to her heel without remorse and now she's traipsing about like a child and picking food fights with her little brother. Huh, weird girl, seems a bit bipolar. Kinda like Vash . _

"Must be why there's an attraction between them," the priest muttered, barely loud enough to be considered "out loud."

"Attraction between whom," a much more chipper voice asked from behind him, causing Wolfwood to jump slightly before regaining his haughty composure. Vash seemed to have completely changed in the short time he spent in the bathroom. A couple tiny squares of tissue clung to the gunman's chin, a testament against toothpaste as a shaving tool, but other than that no sign of Zombie-Vash remained. Wolfwood shrugged off the questioned and pushed past the blonde, heading for the front door.

"I need a smoke," he called over his shoulder. "Jesus Christ on a bike, there's no rest for the weary in this house. Call me when breakfast's ready."

Puzzled, Vash stepped into the kitchen to find a particularly slippery patch of flour beneath his feet. It didn't stay under foot long as his lanky, long legs flew into the air above his waist causing the equal and opposite reaction of his backside meeting the floor with a nasty thud. Air whooshed from his lungs, keeping Vash from yelping. He laid there dazed for a moment, eyes clamped shut. When at last he deemed them ready to reopen they met with a new face hovering above him, concern etched in all its features.

"Shit, Vash, are you alright," the woman asked, worry in her voice. The world slid into focus again and slightly confused, Vash realized it wasn't a different face that stared down at him but a different hair cut. Dazed, Vash lifted his hand to run his fingers through the short, almost curly locks.

"Edy, where'd all your hair go?"

Blushing brilliantly, more so than before, Edy pulled away and slid her hand into the one Vash had left outstretched. She hauled him up to his feet, dusting herself off in an awkward attempt to no longer meet his eyes or his question. In a matter of seconds self-control was recovered and Edy flashed a smile.

"I thought it was time for something new; my hair hadn't been cut since I was eight, and it was just too much trouble at that length."

That wasn't the real reason and Edy knew that Vash knew it. Still, he didn't pry, mainly because he assumed it had something to do with the discussion the night before. Isaiah broke the tension with a barrage of questions, asking Vash what he wanted to eat and how much of everything. The moment past, comfort slid back into its proper place once more and the Gardener kitchen returned to its base state of contentment. Only from time to time would Isaiah catch Vash giving sad little glances in the direction of Edy's bob, but he had no plans of approaching the blonde man about them.

* * * * *

A huge belch rented through the peaceful, morning air. With a smack Vash sent Wolfwood tumbling backwards, out of his chair and across the floor.

"What the hell was that for, Tongari," he shouted, pulling himself up and rubbing indignantly at his bruised ego.

"That's no way to behave in polite company," the other man replied in mock solemnity. He received a wadded napkin in the face for his actions and bore the abuse like a martyr his torture. The noogie crossed the line, though. Within an instant the two men had reverted into small, bickering children; this seemed to be the call of the morning. 

Laughing heartily, Edy rose, gathering the breakfast dishes. Pulling out a tray from a cabinet, she set to work putting together Knives' meal. They had sat there for a couple of hours, chatting and eating, completely forgetting about the belligerent invalid upstairs. His angry cries declaring neglect and abuse quickly reminded them of his existence. Wolfwood's response had been the full-bodied burp that elicited physical violence from the normally passive Vash.

Vash and Edy delivered the meal together, Vash not wanting her to be alone with his brother. He worried about her, even though she brushed off any questions about her hair. It was too sudden, too much to be a simple "need for change." Vash had no plans to let Knives' claws sink any further into her tender soul. So the meal came and went, uneventful and ever-monitored.

"It's time to change your bandages," Vash insisted after they left Knives to enjoy some quiet time with Dante; he had insisted that was the volume he wanted, muttering something about not getting to finish it before they busted in and ruined his life.

Edy nodded in response. She grabbed the medicinal salve and fresh wrappings from the bathroom and head into her room, followed closely by Vash.

* * * * *

Isaiah decided it was time to get some air; the adults had gone all weird on him. Besides, the motorbike probably could use a tune up. Grabbing his tools from the closet beneath the stairs, he headed for the door, only to find his path blocked by two young women who had chosen that moment to walk in.

"Hello? Any one home," called out the taller of the two.

"Of course they are, you ninny! There's someone standing right there," the other rebuked.

"Well, I didn't see him at first, okay?"

"Next time look before you speak."

"Man, Meryl, you're awfully cranky today."

"Of course I'm cranky Milly. It's been three days since I last bathed! Or more! I can't keep track of time anymore, it's all flown out the window!"

"You do smell kind of funny."

"Um, excuse me, misses?" This was Isaiah; he saw a moment when the little one had lost her voice, probably due to fury, and took it as his chance to interject. "Are you in need of medical assistance?" 

Isaiah wanted to smack himself for the ridiculous-sounding words that came out of his mouth, but he had come up with nothing better. The two women turned their attention at last to the boy, as if they finally realized he could hear and see them.

"Nope," said the bigger one (he thought the other called her Milly) with a blinding smile, "we're just looking for two of our friends. Some nice people said that two gentlemen matching their description had been last seen here. Do you know them?"

"Tell him what they look like," the little one (this one he was sure had been called Meryl) muttered to her partner in exasperation.

"Oh, right! Mr. Nicholas D. Wolfwood's kind of tall, my height really, black hair, smokes a whole bunch, and carries around a huge cross. Mr. Vash the Stampede, well, he looks exactly like his reward posters!"

Meryl smacked herself on the head in frustration. From the looks on the boy's face they had spooked him pretty good; either he was worried about the fact that they knew the Humanoid Typhoon or he was acquainted with the two gentlemen but didn't know that one of them was the legendary gunman. They had a long discussion before they even approached the house: don't mention Vash's real identity. Of course, Milly forgot it in the space of time that included the walk from the jeep to the porch, up to the door, and the conversation in front of and with the boy. Five minutes total where just too much for the woman sometimes.

In the kitchen, Wolfwood's ear's picked up the melodious sounds of a certain special someone's voice. Wiping his hands on his apron and leaving the dishes for later, he shuffled out in his now-usual slippers, short jeans, and black sweater, plus the added bonus of a red apron that had "Kick the Cook" printed on it in white. Peeking his head around the corner, a smile exploded across his face when he saw who graced the Gardener's entryway.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my most and second most favorite Insurance Girls! How the hell did you manage to find us all the way out here?"

Milly squealed in excitement and ran down the hall to throw her arms around her priest's neck. The pair stumbled back into the kitchen, thankfully obscuring the noisy reunion scene from the view of both Isaiah and Meryl. Giggles and chortles, mixed with fast blurbs of speech competing to be heard, travelled down the hall.

"So, Vash is 'The Stampede,' huh," Isaiah said with an awkward little cough. Meryl nodded, not exactly sure what else to say. "That makes a lot of sense now. Well, if he's a friend of yours then you're a friend of ours. Isaiah Gardener."

Meryl took the hand he held out to her and they shook, neither one sure what was currently occurring before them.

"Vash's upstairs with his brother and my sister Edy right now. He'll be…."

Isaiah couldn't even get out the rest of his sentence before the petite woman raced up the stairs in a blind panic. God, she was a squirrelly one.

__

Knives is here?! her mind roared, the thought exploding across Meryl's synapses. What in all of creation was going on here?


	16. Questionable Judgments

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Sixteen

Questionable Judgments 

Meryl came to a halt at the top of the stairs for a moment, not sure which room contained Vash and his genocidal brother. The low murmur of talking came from the first door on the right so Meryl put two and two together then ran in, a flash of concern leaping through her mind when she almost unconsciously noticed the room that contained Knives was unlocked. The reason why her entry had been so unhindered became evident when she realized the scene before her did not contain the insane plant. What lay before her did nothing to calm her fury, though.

There in front of Meryl, on a large, unkempt bed, sat Vash and a half-naked woman. She clutched a blanket to her chest and had her back to the blonde man; Meryl burned with a sickening mixture of embarrassment and envy as she watched him rub his hands all over her back, caressing and kneading her flesh. The woman's marred back gleamed with a greasy layer of some oil that Vash was working into her skin.

All in all, the scene looked far too intimate to be innocent. Meryl managed to jump to yet another incorrect conclusion, two in only a span of thirty seconds or so. She seethed with anger, but it hurt, too. So this was why he hadn't tried to find them. Why he didn't try to find her. This was the last thing she expected of the Vash she knew. He kidded around a lot, but this had gone beyond meaningless flirting or awkward attempts at chivalry. It seemed to have taken her hours to process what only took seconds to see. The pair on the bed turned to see who had come in, neither expecting who stood before them: a stranger to one and an old friend to another.

"I… I'm sorry," Meryl stuttered, finding her voice at last, "I didn't mean to interrupt whatever you were… you were doing. I just thought…" Meryl's words died in her throat right there, strangled by the sob that tried to work it's way out.

The woman (the hussy in Meryl's eyes) on the bed had spun around, trying to cover herself even more while Vash just sat there and stared over his shoulder at his diminutive friend. Then he began to giggle and the hussy's look of bright red embarrassment/anger melted into melodious peals of laughter. Tears actually began to stream down their faces as Meryl frowned, wanting to flee this heart-breaking scene. They were laughing at her; they were actually laughing at her pain and humiliation. 

"What the hell is so funny, Vash?!" Meryl cried, her anger spilling out. "I catch you doing Lord knows what with this… this woman," she spat, causing Edy to catch herself in her mirth, beginning to understand this other woman's sorrow, "and all you can do is cackle at me like a terrible old biddy?!"

Meryl turned to storm out when she felt Vash's hand on her wrist, light but enough to make her stop and turn with hot, stinging tears in her eyes. She scowled at him as he wiped his own tears from his eyes and tried in vain to wipe the grin off his face.

"You've got a dirty mind, Insurance Girl. Can you drag it out of the gutter long enough to meet my friend Edy? I was just in the middle of putting some medicine on the wounds across her back when you came in, so you'll have to give her a second to get decent."

Meryl's eyes shifted over Vash's shoulder to see the woman wrapping the blanket around herself in a make-shift sarong. The cuffs of her khaki trousers and her bare feet peeked out from underneath and her blush covered not just her cheeks but her neck, shoulders, and chest as well, even tingeing the tips of her ears pink where they peeked out from beneath short blonde and black curls. Stepping up beside Vash and flashing an awkward smile, the woman held out her hand. Meryl took it tentatively and they shook.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Edy Gardener," she said, her voice cordial and kind. Meryl wasn't sure what to think of her.

"Meryl Strife," came the reply, courteous as well but more professional than friendly. Meryl's hand returned to her side and Edy's to the blanket, drawing it closer still. The claims investigator gave the other woman an assessing once-over before turning to Vash, shoving her verdict away, ashamed she had come to the conclusion to dislike everything about this woman so quickly.

"Now that introductions are out of the way Vash, would you kindly explain just what is going on here? Where have you been all this time? How did you end up in February? Is it true that Knives is here with you? How come you let Wolfwood tag along and not us?"

Vash quailed under the woman's onslaught and slipped behind Edy for protection, stuttering random, incomplete answers. To Edy, he appeared smaller in stature than the tiny women when under the duress of her questioning. Edy smiled to herself; she couldn't help but admire the strength that balanced Meryl's feminine tone. They obviously had an interesting, shared history, the gunman and the girl. Edy found herself wondering exactly what kind of past it had been that elicited such a passionate response to the misdiagnosed "tryst" between her and Vash.

"Jeez, Insurance Girl, back off a little bit! It's a long story!"

"I've got time," Meryl said, crossing her arms across her chest. 

"You should go down and tell Isaiah to put on the kettle, Vash," Edy said into the ensuing and particularly thick silence. "I can finish wrapping myself up just fine; you two have a cup of tea and you can fill her in on everything."

Vash wanted to protest but he found that the longer he spent around Edy, the better he became at reading her facial expressions. This one said "don't you dare defy me now, you've got some explaining to do to this poor woman." Actually, he only caught the "don't defy me" part, but he felt he filled in the gaps rather accurately. Vash gave in and headed to the door, holding it open for Meryl.

"After you," he said, grinning. Meryl passed by but before Vash followed her out, he turned with one last look at Edy.

"Are you going to join us?" he asked. "You're as much a part of the story as anyone."

"I'll drop in later. Spend some time catching up with you friend," Edy replied, waving him out of the room. Vash left and Edy turned to the roll of bandages on the bed. Sighing she dropped the blanket into a heap on the floor and started to unravel some, winding it snuggly around her torso to cover her back. She winced a little as it bound her open cuts a bit too tight to be comfortable. While slowly performing this task, Edy thought about the preposterousness of what Meryl had proposed.

__

Heh. Vash and I being "intimate." Right, Edy thought, her voice laden with sarcasm._ Sure. Like that would ever happen. _

She paused for a moment.

Not that he's a nice person, or all that bad looking, (hell, he's gorgeous), but man, that guy has some serious baggage. I'm amazed he can even get out of bed in the morning with all that he said he's been through. No one deserves a life like that…

* * * * *

"And then these huge beasts attacked me, Ravagers, nasty things. I thought I was a goner for sure, but like a bat out of Hell, Wolfwood charged into the fray and saved me only get his throat chewed on by another one and…."

"Bat out of Hell, Tongari? I'm a man of the cloth. A man of God! I would most certainly NOT sweep in to save your pathetic ass like a Satanic, winged mammal!"

"I had to kick the poor thing really hard and it didn't want to give, but it let go finally and we got away…."

"Are you even listening to me, you idiot!"

"It took us forever to get anywhere but we finally made it to February and…."

"Oy!"

"This snotty rich woman was putting on airs, as if she'd never seen two really bloody, torn up, nearly-dead men in her life before but the young woman with her was really nice and told us to go check out this woman named Gardener and that she was better than any doctor…"

"I'll beat some respect into you, Tongari! You listen when your peers speak to you!"

With that Wolfwood flew out of his seat, dragging a still prattling Vash with him. It was about an hour later and the four old friends had spent it around the kitchen table filling each other in with what had been happening in their lives over the past seven months. Vash had had about five large mugs of heavily-sugared and most definitely caffienated tea. His mind and mouth had been running quite solidly for the past half-hour and Wolfwood had been the only one to force a word in edgewise. One could see the information overload fraying at the edges of the Insurance Girls.

The sounds of the scuffle drifted to the front room that Edy used as a combined office and waiting room. She had set to work balancing the books and took care of a minor injury that came in, although it was nothing major enough for her to use her arm on. The sounds of Isaiah tinkering with the motorbike outside added to the symphony of discordant sounds that jarred her from her work.

Padding lightly out into the foyer, planning on interrupting their play before her kitchen got trashed for the second time that day, Edy paused at the bottom of the stairs. No noise traveled down those stairs, and although Knives was probably sleeping or reading, she felt the need to make sure he was still there. Edy detoured from her current path to the kitchen and climbed the stairs.

Knives raised his eyes from the seventh circle of Hell when he heard the key scrape in the lock; Vash had said something about the locksmith would be by tomorrow to add to the single confinement apparatus. He prayed silently that it wouldn't be his brother's face coated in a false cheerfulness that would peek around the door. Dante had put Knives in a particularly dark mood and he had no want of happiness at this time. So he was a little surprised when his spirits actually rose minutely upon seeing Edy enter.

He hadn't asked her about her hair earlier when Vash stood at her side, on guard. Maybe now he'd finally be able to talk to her, get her to dredge up all the terrible feelings she felt when she took scissors to her long tresses. Then he'd comfort her and they would bond.

"What did I do now," he asked first, tearing his eyes away from her face; although he tried to act as if he cared little about her appearance in the room, Knives still set his book upside down in his lap to hold his place, the passages facing his knees.

"Nothing, I just wanted to see how you were doing. Do you need anything, any more pain medications," she said, her voice kinder than it had ever been since she discovered he was a "monster," as she called him numerous times since they had met.

"I'm fine," he answered curtly, a little surprised. Edy's voice was not devoid of compassion, but she didn't seem like she cared about Knives personally, just the fact that he was a living, conscious being. At least she cared somewhat.

"I'm a little lonely, though," he added, trying to look pathetic.

Edy then did the last thing he expected of her; she walked over to the bed and sat down at his feet. What had changed? She obviously didn't fear him and no she no longer seemed quite as repulsed by him. All night last night she had stood or sat as far away from Knives as possible, keeping Vash between them at all times. When she gave him his breakfast she hardly said a word and performed all tasks in a brisk and efficient manner. What was so different about him now that wasn't an hour or so before?

Edy sat there, watching him watch her. She had been on guard when she entered the room but pity overwhelmed her when she saw him sitting there, unable to move from his place or speak with other people. 

Well, with other plants at least; he probably wouldn't put up with another human for more than a breath's span, Edy thought to herself. When he had looked down at his fingers splayed over the back of the book, his shoulders and head drooped, he almost looked like a little boy; probably because she couldn't see those icy, hateful eyes. Besides, he was Vash's brother and Vash seemed to have turned out well enough, considering. Maybe it would be better if Knives had some companionship. Maybe there was something Edy could do besides just keep him under lock and key. 

She had done a lot of thinking about Knives last night too, in her spot amongst the sea of hair. 

It would be hard. Edy didn't deny it. Every time she looked him in the eye, a new wave of disgust and anger rose to the surface. Knives' plans, his ideals, his morals, they all seemed so skewed to her and impossible to understand. But if she wanted to be able to stop him, she would have to be able to get into his head and comprehend who he was and why he thought, acted, and felt the way he did. Edy breathed in deeply and exhaled with a barely perceptible sigh.

"How are you enjoying Dante," Edy asked at last, quietly. 

"Pretty well. There's a few things It writes of that I don't particularly agree with, but It is an imperfect human, after all."

The two slowly launched into an awkward conversation about _Inferno_ and the opinions Dante had put forth. As they talked, the words came easier and more animated, both forgetting at least for that short while, the undesirable positions in which both of their lives currently resided.


	17. Out of the Frying Pan and into the Pasta...

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Myshkin: *Reads the reviews.* Jeez, what's so awful about Edy? Does she have cooties or something? *Goes and sulks.* 

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Seventeen

Out of the Frying Pan and into the Pasta Dish 

The afternoon waned into the evening and although it had been very pleasant, Vash was surprised that Edy hadn't poked her head in even once. Dinner time was fast approaching and the woman was no where to be seen. Getting up from the kitchen table and leaving the others to their chatting, Vash began to meander around the house, looking in all the rooms for Edy. When he couldn't find her on the first floor, he ascended to the second.

There was a moment of panic that squeezed his heart when he thought she hadn't come down yet. Maybe she had felt poorer than she let on and had stayed in her room. Maybe she went into Knives' room…. That would be the worst. He couldn't know what his brother had planned for the two new plants, but he knew it would never leave Edy unscarred or particularly happy. 

__

Dammit, I told her not to go in there alone, he thought, frustrated. 

Unlocking the door with his copy of the key, he walked in on the two laughing about something. Knives looked relaxed and in quite a good mood. There was no trace of fear or anger to be seen on Edy's person. They were even sitting on the bed together, Knives resting against the headboard and Edy cross-legged at the foot.

"Oh, hello Vash," Edy said with a small wave and a smile. She caught sight of her watch as she did so and groaned. "I completely forgot about dinner! It's a quarter to seven, you all must be starving. And on the day I have a new guest, too."

"Guests, actually," Vash replied, not exactly sure what else to say. "Since you never came down you didn't get to meet our other friend Milly Thompson who arrived with Meryl."

"I can't believe I'm being such a terrible host," she exclaimed with a smack to her head. Unfolding herself from her seated position, Edy stretched her arms together high to the ceiling. "I'd better get down there right away. Man, what am I going to do for dinner…"

Edy left but Vash remained behind. Knives' pleasant expression had dissipated and he glared at his brother.

"Bringing more humans into the house, are we" came the calloused question. "Just like you own the place."

"Well, you don't either; Edy doesn't mind at all, or she would have turned the Insurance Girls away."

"Insurance Girls… they traveled with you and the priest, did they not?"

"Um-hm," Vash grunted his reply. He was in no mood for Knives this evening, ruining his good mood. What he really wanted to know was what he had been talking to Edy about all afternoon.

"I didn't say a single nasty thing to her," Knives remarked snidely; it was almost as if he read his brother's mind. A malicious smirk crossed his face as he met his brother's furious eyes. "I didn't even ask about her hair cut, although I wanted to so badly. Tell me, Vash; did she have a break down? Did all those terrible things you said to her last night make her lose control, make her need to change something so dramatically, make her cut away a part of herself? You were quite blunt with her, saying all those terrible, frightening things; you all but said she was as good as dead. You…"

"_Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!_" Vash shouted, wheeling around to run to the door. "I only told her the truth! You did too! I wasn't the only one who told her about us, about what we are!"

With that, Vash slammed the door and clomped downstairs, trying to regain his composure. Whatever shred of a good mood he had hoped to leave that room with, it was gone now.

Knives sat in the near-darkness; Edy had lit the two lamps flanking the door around sunset, when she was in there, but the force with which Vash shut the door had blown one out. Knives smiled to himself at first, but then he frowned. Was this really how he wanted things to go? Was this really how he wanted it to be?

* * * * *

"But you must have had to eat out every day on the road! You must really want a good, home cooked meal by now," Vash heard Edy say as he walked into the kitchen. Apparently Edy had made acquaintances with Milly because she stood before the tall girl, the two of them discussing dinner. Wolfwood and Meryl had remained sitting, both sipping their tea and watching how dinner plans would unfold. Isaiah had even popped his head in from the living room, having retreated to there to read after the sun had set.

"Oh no, Miss Edy, it's fine," Milly consoled the distraught-looking young woman in her usual sweet manner. "Well, we did eat out a lot, but really, we don't mind. You've got your hands full with Mr. Knives and everyone else. It's no problem!"

"At least let me pay," Edy gave in at last, but using yet again her "don't defy me" look, Vash noted. "I know this great place not to far from here; it's a family-owned restaurant, real quaint, but it has the most incredible pasta you could imagine."

"Sounds delicious!" Vash said, summoning all of his strength to be cheerful for the others. He didn't like the idea of leaving Knives here alone, but maybe if they drugged him up enough…. Edy's sleeping draught seemed potent enough. "I'll go run some leftovers up to Knives for dinner, and then we'll be on our way."

The others stayed in the kitchen as Vash threw together a tray of food from the pantry and fridge, topping it off with a glass of water and a glass of the draught. Edy noticed but only nodded slightly and frowned as Vash passed, agreeing that it was probably for the best, even if she didn't particularly like the idea.

When Vash returned he found everyone in the foyer, ready to go. Isaiah had become engrossed in a conversation with Milly who stood at Wolfwood's side; the priest chatted idly with Edy but Meryl stood off from the group, silent with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Vash gently wound his arm around hers, causing her to let go of her death grip on herself. The group headed out into the night, their happy voices floating skyward to greet the moons above.

* * * * *

The place actually _was_ quaint, a small, softly lit place with candles dripping down over brilliantly colored bottles and wine older than Isaiah, Milly, and Wolfwood combined. A string quartet played music much livelier than normally heard from such an ensemble, but not enough to over-power any chance of a conversation. A beautiful mural covered the walls, encircling the room; everyone was taken aback except for Edy when they first laid eyes on it. 

It was a seascape, as Edy told them later while they ate, a thing that one could see on Earth; she'd read about such things and had seen pictures of them in books before. Still, it was breathtaking to see such an incredibly rendered scene of more water in one place than any of them would ever catch a glimpse of in a lifetime on the desert planet. It was quite a find, tucked away in the Hollow, where so few upper class citizens dared to tread. If they had, this restaurant would be raised to an almost god-like status among culinary wonders; between the wine, the atmosphere, and especially the food, it was just that good.

The owner/head chef strode out onto the floor when the group entered, Edy at the helm. He was a short, broad man with dark hair that covered his head in a wild rug, straggling down his round cheeks; after wiping his hands on his big white apron he drew Edy up into a hug, virtually nullifying the preceding action, and chastised her for not coming around more often. 

"You haven't been around in a year, not since your papa passed away, God rest his soul," he told her, waggling his finger at her like she was an erring child. "You know Maria and I enjoyed your pretty face and handsome wit the most of all in your wonderful family; although your mama was a stunning and perfect saint, God rest her soul as well. We've missed you so terribly!"

"I know Luc, I know, I'm sorry. Of course," she grinned, turning the teasing tables on him, "you two could have come and visited me any time you wanted. By keeping away, you haven't had a chance to meet the newest addition to the Gardener clan. Isaiah, honey, this is Lucas Herring, the proud proprietor and head chef of The Prancing Thomas, as well as a close friend of the family."

Edy reached back and drew her brother forward to greet the man. The two shook hands, Isaiah's shyness keeping him from muttering much more than "Pleased to meetcha." He still was unused to meeting new people and it didn't help that he had Edy to hide behind like a toddler behind his mother's knees. Although he was on better terms with the new men (minus Knives, naturally) in their lives, Isaiah still had yet to warm up to the diminutive Meryl who, to her credit, had only arrived that morning. Of course, Milly was far too, well, Milly-ish, not to like and he had liked her on sight, but that was a whole other kettle of strangers.

"My, my, what a handsome young lad. Where'd you find this one roaming about?"

"Father actually brought him home not long before he died. Isaiah's a special one, that's the truth," Edy said, giving him a big hug from behind and a small peck on the top of his head. Isaiah blushed and tried to pull away but Edy only held on tighter, knowing the boy was just mortified. What good was a big sister if she couldn't embarrass her little brother terribly from time to time?

"It seems you've gathered up a few more wandering souls than just this fine gentleman. I don't recognize a one of you, so Edy, if you'd kindly introduce us," Luc insisted.

Edy went around the circle telling Luc the names of every individual in the entourage, each taking the man's enthusiastic hand in turn. He gave the ladies a kiss on the hand and then swept off to have a table set for them immediately.

"Why'd you have to do that, Edy," Isaiah whined when the man was out of hearing range.

"Because you're just too precious to not hug and kiss," she said in a ridiculously sappy tone of voice usually reserved for puppies and babies, throwing her arms around him again and covering his cheeks with little kisses. As he struggled the group laughed at the siblings, all except Meryl who barely let any mirth escape from between her lips.

"What's wrong, Insurance Girl," Vash leaned over and whispered to her, his arm still around hers in a gentlemanly fashion. "Are you still mad at me about this afternoon? I already explained to you how it is. And why were you so worked up about it in the first place?"

She glanced over at Milly and Wolfwood, who had followed their lead, falling into adorable step behind Vash and Meryl on the walk over. They stood closer together than she to the blonde gunman and their smiles toward each other were more genuine, more meaningful, yet still so light and playful like old times. Meryl turned her eyes then to her toes. She knew those two were as close to real as possible in this world and in their situations. She also knew that Vash's arm around hers was just a kind act to make her feel better. Everything that man did was kind; he was the _fucking _kindest man she knew. It burned her so badly and Meryl couldn't even tell herself why. She most certainly couldn't tell Vash why. At last she whispered a reply.

"I'm just exhausted from all the traveling and catching up, that's all. And I'm dirty still. One can only take so many basin baths in two-bit hotels for so long before going a little crazy."

She tried to smile her best "I'm okay, really" smile and it obviously worked. Vash just smiled back.

"Don't worry, Edy has a huge bath tub that stays warm for as long as you like. She'd be happy to draw you a bath as soon as we get back from dinner."

Meryl nodded but said nothing, her lips pursed a little tighter. Luc had returned in full force to usher them to their seats. When everyone was settled in he produced the finest vintage in the house, on the house of course, and insisted that he would pay for their meal this evening too. Edy launched into a half-hearted argument, insisting that she would pay, but she gave in rather quickly; it was evident that Luc like things his way as much if not more so than Edy like things her way. With a fatherly kiss on Edy's cheek, Luc disappeared off to the kitchens in a flurry of apron and excitement.

The dinner out had begun.


	18. A Derringer’s Report

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Myshkin: To my faithful readers whom I haven't pissed off, scared off, or made really, really bored by not updating for a while, I apologize. Mid-term break came and I failed to take my notes for this chapter home with me (I'm so smart, S-M-R-T, I mean S-M-A-R-T! ^_^) Anyways, here's the next chapter. I really am sorry that all this relationship stuff is cropping up and taking away from the action; it'll change soon, hopefully. 

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Eighteen

A Derringer's Report

"You love him, don't you, Meryl."

Meryl's head snapped up from her arms, where it had lain moments before; it had been a futile attempt to rid herself of a terrible headache but it was all she could do since they didn't have the extra funds for aspirin at the time. The girls were back in a small town called Barracks, three months before they would see their friends once more. 

The pair had bounced around, following fruitless rumors as best they could when traveling to investigate insurance claims. With Vash the Stampede basically out of the picture (rumor was it that he had finally met his end and that's why he hadn't been marauding across the planet), they could only cling to the slowly shrinking faith in Vash's uncanny ability to stay alive that resided deep within their hearts.

"What did you say, Milly," she asked, perfectly and painfully aware of what the question had been.

"I asked if you love Mr. Vash," the girl replied, blissfully unaware of her friend's discomfort.

"I…. As a…. It's like a…." Meryl stuttered and then sighed, giving up. "Yes I do, I think. It's ridiculous, though, and completely unfeasible!"

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, I can't even begin to know how he thinks of me. Am I an acquaintance to him? A friend? More? He loves everyone so much that I can't possibly tell who he cares about more over others. There's only so much a heart can hold; he can't have room for any one person over another."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Milly said. "He seems awfully fond of you, me, Mr. Wolfwood, and even his brother Mr. Knives, despite all he's done to hurt Mr. Vash. He's definitely more fond of us than that little boy and his mother walking down the street right now."

Meryl pushed herself up from the desk and moved to stand at the window beside the other woman. She quizzically watched the aforementioned parent and child for a moment and then snorted.

"Of course he does; he doesn't know them, but he knows us."

"Exactly. Mr. Vash isn't so special that he can refuse to play favorites. No one can, not if they live, work, fight, and play with certain people on such a close and regular basis as us four did for so long."

"And what kind of life can we have together? He'll live forever…"

"So will his memories. Aren't those better than nothing at all?"

"I still don't know, Milly. What exactly am I in love with? What part of Vash do I truly know enough to care that deeply about? What part of him has he allowed me to know? The hero? The sensitive guy? The man in the red coat that always manages to save the day but cries if a bug gets squashed in the process? Vash hides behind his masks, shares nothing, and pushes everyone away. We haven't heard from him in four months."

Meryl sighed and backed up to plop down onto her small bed in their cheaply rented hotel room. 

"I don't even believe he's alive anymore," she whispered, a few tears managing to worm their way out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She stared at her hands as they lay there in her lap, palms up. There were no answers there; there were no answers anywhere inside of Meryl. For once she was completely at a loss, without hope or conviction, her necessary driving forces.

"No," Milly shouted, grabbing Meryl by the shoulders and shaking her lightly, causing the smaller woman to look up into another pair of tear-filled eyes. "We promised to think 

no news is good news' and never, ever think that Mr. Vash or Mr. Wolfwood were dead. Never!"

"Milly, don't get so upset," she said, gently laying her hands over her friends, trying to calm the distraught Milly. "It's just a reality we have to face. If he was alive, he'd come back for me, for us. I know it. Or at least, I did a couple of months ago. I don't know any more…."

"Oh Meryl, of course he'll come," Milly exclaimed, throwing her arms around her friend. "Of course he'll come."

* * * * *

Not a soul stirred back at the Gardener property since both boys that had been left behind were out like a light. Roscoe snored large, wet, doggy snores as he lay racked out in front of Knives' door. It may have appeared that he was guard, keeping the malcontented plant in his place, but in reality Roscoe smelled the hardly touched leftovers through the door and knew it was only a matter of time before one of the others with thumbs would open the door and give him access to the chow. It truly is amazing how single-minded dogs can become when they have a plan involving the retrieval and consumption of food.

On the other side of the door, Knives was too drugged up to know or care about what went on outside of his brain.

Knives was dreaming again, and unfortunately it was a repeat. He found himself in the middle of the restless, stormy ocean, drowning. The panic wasn't so intense this time because he knew he was dreaming, he knew the sequence of this dream, and he knew he would eventually be saved, if only for a moment, before waking.

Once more the ocean that he had never gazed upon with his own eyes swallowed him up and once more the mysterious woman, obscured by the water's darkness, halted his decent, a beautiful gardenia breathing life into his pressed lungs. When she spoke at last, though, her words were different.

"I apologize," said the soft, sad voice in his mind. "I saved you through her, but I could not control her fury. Honestly, I don't know where she got the temper from. Most certainly not from my side, I can guarantee that."

Knives blinked, the surreal tension completely dispelled, gone from the dream. He was no longer communing with a deceased plant who seemed raised far above the mortal plane and Edy's long-gone mother no less. Now he floated there, listening to a lovingly exasperated parent complain only half-seriously about her child. It was mundane, stupid, and Knives knew he would wake up particularly grumpy from the dream. He hated it when dreams were so ordinary. Still, the dream continued and Knives spoke.

"You're Edwina Gardener, are you not? Edy's… mother?"

There was no reply from the figure, but Knives knew it to be the truth. He spoke once more.

"You said he and she would come and stop me. Vash and Edy, correct?"

Again, no answer.

"Well, they came, but I have yet to fail in my endeavor," he said, his voice frozen around a core of cocky self-assurance. "I'm merely set back. The towns that lost their plants to me still remain plantless and they will continue to suffer from this, even though Vash managed to wrest our kin from me. The humans will die and you daughter will be a key element in their downfall."

At last this elicited a response.

"No, you'll destroy her before it comes down to that."

"You mentioned that before," Knives said, his frustration breaking through his icy calm, causing his voice to flare up. "What makes you think I want to kill your daughter? She's of too much use to me to recklessly throw her away."

It bothered him, these insinuations the ghost plant put forth. He couldn't explain why, but it really got under his skin.

"Things don't always go as one plans. Edy has a say in her future as well, you know."

"She will choose death? But that's stupid, contrary to common sense! Edy's too intelligent to throw away her life for the sake of some disgusting humans!"

"He does it all the time," her voice remaining calm and level as the volume and tone of Knives grew louder and more frustrated. Knives had begun to sound like a petulant child now, whining and spiting with every syllable, where as Edwina seemed to indulge his infantile rage. "He is continually sacrificing himself for the good of others."

"Who, Vash? Vash is just as stupid! I'll never understand him, ever!"

"Then you will lose them both."

And with that, the flower was swept away and Knives awoke, still groggy from the drugs and in an extremely pissy mood, as he expected.

"I won't lose them," he muttered to the still, empty room, "not if I have any say in the matter. Not now, not ever; they'll never leave me. They can't leave me."

* * * * *

The dinner passed remarkably without incident. Meryl warmed up eventually, although not yet to Edy, no one bickered over portion size, the food was delicious, and Luc had graced both Vash and Wolfwood with jobs at The Prancing Thomas, so their source of income was now secure. Everyone went away blissfully bloated and supremely satisfied.

As they walked home, Wolfwood petted his belly and sighed; he hadn't been _this _full _this _many days in a row in long time. He smiled, lit up a crumpled cigarette, and watched the others chatter in the still night, all the stars and moons following them home, trekking along their paths in the sky. It was a pleasant life and for a moment, probably the first in his life, he almost honestly believed it could last.

__

Better enjoy this while I have it, he thought sadly, his mind's voice tinged with bitterness. Things never stayed this wonderful for long in this world and especially not the one centered around he and Vash. 

Wolfwood caught the end of a joke Edy was telling and laughed, choking back his surprise. He saw Vash's face light up in mirth and then blush bright, bright red. The Insurance Girls were practically supporting each other in their fits of giggles. Isaiah simply looked confused. The boy had been walking at the priest's side so he looked to the older man for answers.

"When your older, Isaiah, when you're older," he said, laughing once more. Inside he hated having to say that, knowing it would only tick the kid off. Considering the only reason why Wolfwood got the punch line was because of the life he led, the life that made him grow up way too fast. He was amazed once more that the rest of his company understood the subtle, if not so refined, humor. 

It was a rather off-color joke, filled with euphemisms that would pass over Isaiah's spiky little head but still send most adults into an uproar of either glee, indignation, embarrassment, or rage. Wolfwood was shocked as well as impressed at the fact that Edy knew that one; usually the joke about the one-legged Thomas and the elderly bartender was reserved for "less established" establishments, usually never making it to the ears of such a lady as Edy. Of course, the longer he hung around this woman, the more he realized she was anything _but_ a lady.

The whole crew, with the exception of Isaiah, were more giggly than normal. The vintages had been excellent, if a little too posh for everyday drinking; still, they were well-suited for the occasion. He felt the buzz and the women were certainly much more jovial than before.

__

Even dry, old Meryl had a glass with dinner, amazingly enough, he thought with a snicker. _Maybe that's why she finally shrugged off that attitude._

He may have been a dense male, but Wolfwood knew Meryl had been upset about something. Exactly what he had no clue until Milly filled him in with her hypothesis at dinner. She had taken a moment when Meryl was occupied in the ladies' room. Wolfwood had looked at her with confusion pasted all over his face, asking her what was up with Meryl; as soon as he heard the woman's theory, whispered discreetly so that neither Vash nor Edy would hear, Wolfwood wished he hadn't asked. 

This love stuff was icky business, best left to the women to sort out. Sure he was fond of Milly (okay, really fond) but he didn't know or care if he loved the girl. He had a good time whenever he was with her, a better time than when he wasn't, and that was all that matter. Life for him was too short to bother with such headaches.

The group wandered in through Edy's front door around midnight, the boys wandering back to their bedroom, ready for sleep without even bothering with washing up. Edy pondered for a moment about where to put the girls when she decided they would take her room. Milly tried to refuse, but Edy insisted; her bed was plenty big enough for the both of them, it being a king size and all. They followed her upstairs as she brought out clean sheets and towels from the linen closet and set about making the bed.

"Oh no, Miss Edy, let me do that for you," Milly offered, taking the sheets from Edy's hands. Edy sighed with a smile and relinquished the blankets to Milly's eager-to-help hands. 

"I'll bet you'll both want a bath, so let me go draw one up while you do that," Edy said, exiting the room. 

"Meryl, you go ahead first, I'll be fine waiting," the bigger girl said. Meryl nodded, thanking Milly for her kindness, and followed Edy to the bathroom. At last she would have a proper bath!


	19. Baby Steps

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Nineteen

Baby Steps

Meryl followed the sound of running water to the bathroom. The door stood ajar ever so slightly, giving the lamp light only a tiny bit of space to squeeze out. Pushing the door open the rest of the way, Meryl strode into the room and stopped when Edy's eyes turned from the knobs she was fiddling with to the other woman's face. Meryl quickly avoided her gaze, taking in the room around her; the bathroom, and respectively the bathtub, was huge. It seemed that much of the space in this house was devoted to the kitchen and the bathroom. 

Internally Meryl snorted; she thought it was a little ostentatious and a waste but she didn't dare say anything. This woman was putting up with five strangers in her house, two in her own bedroom, one wanting to exterminate all of humanity, one a very, very wanted man, one packing artillery contained in the shape of a cross (which itself was also two large weapons), and all of this with few questions asked. 

"It'll take a little while to heat up, but it's all yours," Edy said, standing after she finished whatever she was messing with. "I'll be setting up camp outside of Knives' room, just right next to you two if you'll need anything. Have Milly come get me when she's ready for her bath; I'll be up for a while still, so don't worry about bothering me."

Edy's words were kind and sincere, a smile on her face. Meryl wanted to hate this woman but she was just too nice. Too much like Vash, although not enough for her to actually like her. Walking past Meryl to the door, Edy paused and turned, speaking once more to Meryl. She seemed much more embarrassed now, and apologetic.

"I'm sorry about laughing at you earlier; if I had seen my boyfriend in such a compromising position I'd be pretty mad too."

Meryl just stared at Edy, blinking. Her words had stunned the Insurance Girl into silence. No inkling of even _how_ to reply entered Meryl's mind.

"We-well…" Edy stuttered, blushing and quailing under Meryl's imposing gaze. "Like I said, I'll be right out here if you need anything."

Edy beat a hasty retreat, shutting the door behind her. Meryl laughed softly, no humor in the sound. Edy thought they, her and Vash… It hurt her even more, this woman's apology, her concern about other's emotions, their happiness. She sunk down on the bench, fighting back tears and forming a resolution.

This had gone on long enough. Meryl needed to do the logical thing and confront Vash. Get everything out in the open, let them talk about it, figure everything out. It was so irrational to keep on guessing how he felt about her; she would ask him straight out tomorrow morning, first thing. Maybe. Or maybe not.

Meryl never did have that talk with Vash. Two days later they left, their vacation time having run out.

* * * * *

"Slowly, slowly, it's your first time up in… Dammit, Knives, I told you to slow down!"

Edy, frustrated, knelt to help Knives up from his place on the rug, getting him upright once more. He steadied himself by resting his weight on Edy, struggling to stay up while she retrieved his crutches that had fallen with him. Vash watched over them, silent and tense. 

It always worried him when Edy interacted so closely with his brother; it also bothered him. Even though they both insisted to Vash that Knives was no threat to the female plant, Vash remembered with extreme clarity the wounds on her back, the wounds that he had cared for. Although they healed, the scars remained. Edy couldn't gain the leverage necessary to heal herself. The wounds closed on their own, leaving four red lines across her flesh.

Three months had passed and it was Knives' first time out of bed on his own feet. Before, Vash or Isaiah would help Edy carry him to the bathroom to use the facilities or to bathe; when he was being good, Edy would sit with him out on the back porch to get some fresh air. Today, Edy wanted Knives to walk himself to the bathroom and then she and Vash would carry him back. They would start slow and build up his atrophied muscles with small exercises and excursions.

Edy had picked that day for a couple of reasons. One, it was Vash's day off and she wanted him to be there. Two, his legs were as close to being healed as they ever would be. And three, she had gotten Knives' crutches in three days before. 

Edy had called upon the best pharmacy in February, deep in the heart of the city, to find the highest quality of crutches to aid in Knives' mobility. They were shiny, brand new, custom-fit, and they cost her a pretty penny; she paid for it herself, refusing Vash's offer to buy them. They were top of the line, with padded cuffs that fit just right around his forearms and sturdy rubber handles that were easy to grip. The metal shafts were twice the thickness of the standard crutch, the height sized exactly to Knives' proportions, and little rubber knobs fitted over the bottoms for better traction on slicker surfaces. Of course, Knives hated them on first site when Edy showed them to him three days earlier.

"You'd better get used to them," Edy had told him, exasperated. It had been a long day as it was, Knives being in a particularly foul mood to begin with. His snappish baulk at the crutches had been the last straw and Edy had to speak up; it was all she could do to keep her voice level. "The likelihood of you ever walking without them is slim, at least for any kind of sufficient distance. I did my best, but the damage was beyond conventional medicine."

"But not your skills as a plant," he shouted. "If you would have used your gift, I wouldn't have to rely on tools that only weak humans have need of!"

"Nothing about a person who uses crutches is weak; they're body may just need a little help and there's nothing wrong or shameful in that. Besides, if I had used my arm, I'd have that much less time to live."

"Well, you wouldn't have had to face that issue if you hadn't shot me!"

Edy had managed to keep her voice calm while Knives yelled like a spoiled brat, but she couldn't hold back anymore.

"If you hadn't tried to kill my brother and I, I wouldn't have had to shoot you! I don't regret or take back my actions that day, not even a little; your issues, your need for blood, it's sick! I thought we needed to lock you up and throw away the key, that you were a monster, but I've spent most of my days with you these past two months and I know that deep, deep, deep down inside of you there's something good. Something good that you keep wrapping back up in hate the instant I peel away another dark layer. Fuck it, you can stay in bed the rest of your long, pathetic life for all I care! We shouldn't ever let you out but we do; I'm the one who's put myself on the line to convince the others that you deserve a little bit of freedom. All this and you spit it back in my face! Dammit Knives… Just… Shit!"

Losing her rant at the end, her words and thoughts unraveling, Edy threw the crutched to the floor and stormed out of the room. She didn't come to see him for two days, leaving Vash and Isaiah to pick up the slack in caring for him.

Knives had passed his days for the past three months in Edy's company whenever she wasn't working. They'd become closer, amazingly enough; probably because Edy's heart, although it could flare up terribly, couldn't hate for long. Knives hadn't realized how dependant he had become upon Edy's attention until he lost it. 

He hated it enough when she would leave him for the evening, when Vash and Wolfwood returned home from work. He could hear the gentle murmur of their conversations and the copious amounts of laughter they, plus Isaiah, would produce. They would be so sad when the human priest, the one that once had worked for him as Chapel, had to die. Still, it was their own fault for getting so attached to vermin. 

Regardless, so much was being given to him, at Edy's expense. 

After two days had passed, Knives insisted that Edy come see him. He apologized as well as Knives could, she forgave him, and the next day was set as the first day of independent mobility.

"Thank you," Knives muttered as Edy returned his crutches to him. Knives began again, Edy hovering nearby. His face was a picture of bitter, pained determination. A tiny drop of blood welled on his lower lip as he bit down on it. It took all his concentration to make his legs work again.

It was a slow process, Edy murmuring much kinder encouragements than her first exclamation of frustration. Vash joined in too, but only half-heartedly. He hated seeing his brother in pain but he didn't approve of a mobile Knives. 

Reports had come in just last week that the ships would be due to arrive in three months time barring any more difficulties; they had been pushed back due to some technical problem or another, but were on course once more. The entire planet now knew that salvation from this hell-hole was at hand and the change in people's behaviors and dispositions was plain to see. 

Talk of destroying the Earth's ships had slowed from Knives' mouth but Vash knew the idea wasn't gone from his brother's mind. Edy, on the other hand, had seemed to take it upon herself to "save" Knives, to change his mind through showing him compassion and turning his focus to other things.

__

I can only hope it'll work, he thought to himself as he watched his brother's measured progress towards the restroom. _Handicapped or not, he'll do it. He'll wipe them all out if given the chance._

* * * * *

"When are the girls getting in?" Wolfwood asked, collapsing on the living room couch. 

He had just gotten off from work and the smells of the restaurant radiated from his waiter's outfit. Despite his charm, it took both Wolfwood and Vash a while to get the hang of serving, but now they both were whizzes on the floor and even had regulars that insisted on being sat at their tables with every visit. They seemed to almost be naturals at it and of course all the lady patrons enjoy their handsome faces and sweet nothings that they could lay on thicker than butter on a roll. 

Black dress shoes had been kicked off in the front hallway, the black neck tie soon following them, and the first few buttons of the white collared shirt were parted with their buttonholes. Wolfwood let out a huge sigh, sinking into the plush couch.

"They're supposed to be here around ten o'clock; you might want to get a small bite to eat now because Edy's planning on having a late dinner ready for them and us who can wait for it," Isaiah replied, poking his head in from the kitchen.

With a grunt and a nod, Wolfwood pushed himself up from his seat, following the boy into the kitchen. He still couldn't get over how fast Isaiah was growing; The boy already looked fourteen and had sky-rocketed through a significant chunk of the obnoxious and embarrassing aspects of puberty within twelve weeks. His voice had dropped a couple octaves, although it cracked frequently, he'd grown six inches and needed all new clothes, and his chin was beginning to resemble a ripe peach. 

__

It must have been like this for Vash and Knives too, the lucky bastards, Wolfwood thought. _All the shitty parts of growing up were just fast-forwarded through; those weeks had to have been Hell on Gunsmoke, but they were probably over with too fast to even remember. _

Still, it made Wolfwood sad to see the kid cooped up at such a time in his life as this. It was for everyone's safety, though, especially Isaiah's. His fast growth rate had to be hidden and Edy had to painfully spread rumors once more that the child under her care had passed away. It was the second time she had to feign Isaiah's death, although the boy was too small to even remember the first time around. 

People knew that her father had brought home a baby shortly before he passed away; this knowledge had to be cut short since the baby didn't stay little for long enough. Now, because Isaiah had been seen around town three months before, the existence of a roughly twelve year old boy at the Gardener's residence had to be negated as well. 

So Edy pretended to have a private burial on the grounds, no one allowed but her and her tenants, the two men having to dig the grave. People still stopped by with their condolences, bringing food and kind words (the Herrings of course surpassing all others in those two categories), and that was that. Edy had hated all of that, especially wearing the mourning black around Isaiah, but the boy got quite a kick out of it all. He also understood the necessity of it all, not having to be shielded from any truths, so that made it all easier to take in stride including the virtual house arrest. Besides, he'd only be homebound until the ships came, they estimated, until his growth slowed enough and changes wouldn't be so dramatic. Then he'd have all eternity to wander Earth as he pleased; if it was alright with Edy, of course.

"For the love of God, I'm starving! Why this of all nights couldn't dinner be on the table when I walk in," Wolfwood whined. Isaiah tossed an apple at the priest/waiter in response. His failure to warn the man resulted in a dull thunk and a string of curses; Isaiah had managed to hit him square in the forehead.

"Come on, the girls haven't been around in a month; it'll be nice to have all of us together for dinner again," Isaiah said, stifling a snicker. "I'm sure Milly will be _more _than happy to see you again."

Wolfwood shook a fist at the boy with the insinuating grin. He blushed a little too, embarrassed that Isaiah was already making jokes like that. Still, Isaiah was right, he was eager to spend time with her once more.

The Insurance Girls had spent another two days before they had to move on to the next assignment three months back; their vacation was over and work called. So they left, but whenever the job brought them close to or in February they always stopped in for a visit. Milly had easily won the hearts of the Gardeners with their first stay and even Meryl had come to tolerate Edy's presence better, just so long as she got to see Vash and Wolfwood. Isaiah just loved to hear what was going on in the big, wide world and the Insurance Girls always had the best stories to tell. Tonight the girls were coming to stay for a few days while they investigated a claim in February.

Munching on the apple and rubbing at the red spot in the middle of his forehead, Wolfwood wandered around the first floor, trying to find Vash and Edy. They were no where to be found and Isaiah seemed absorbed in the roast he was preparing for later, so Wolfwood decided to go out for a smoke. If the two were upstairs together then they were

probably dealing with Knives. 

Although the plant had mellowed considerably, according to Edy at least, he still wanted nothing to do with Wolfwood or the girls when they were around. That was perfectly fine with him; he really wanted nothing to do with Knives either, except to maybe put a bullet between those malicious, frozen eyes. Naturally, he stayed his hand, but only for Vash and Edy's sake; they wouldn't be too happy if he did such a service to mankind.

Puffing on the cigarette and watching the moons rise, Wolfwood began to reminisce about the months spent under Edy's roof; they were pleasant, habitual, hardly noteworthy, but they were the quietest, happiest times of his life. 

And that quickly the quiet happiness was then shattered by a loud crash and a pained yelp that came from inside the house. 


	20. Looking It in the Eyes

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Twenty

Looking It in the Eyes

__

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…

It took then over an hour to get Knives to the bathroom and back; most of the time was spent waiting for Knives to finish his business. Actually, Edy suspected that Knives probably sat in there on the bench doing nothing just to spite them, but she didn't say anything. Dinner needed to be ready for the girls when they got there and Edy didn't feel like spending any more time on Knives that day. As patient as she usually was with the plant, a neck ache the size of the hole in the fifth moon had moments before taken over all her nerves, leaving not a last one for Knives to get on.

Together Vash and Edy walked downstairs, both lost in their own thoughts. Vash had retreated into his worries about what to do with a Knives on the mend. As for Edy, she could only think about pain killers and the consumption of whole handful of them in the near future.

__

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…

Without warning, Edy pitched forward, consumed by a sudden dizziness. The pain at the base of her head intensified, and every muscle in her chest tightened, causing her to emit a loud, strange cry. Before Vash knew what had happened, Edy tumbled down the remaining three or four steps, landing in a heap in the entryway. Then the convulsions started.

Her entire body shook, her back arching and flattening against the floor, her limbs flailing. Saliva escaped from the corners of her mouth, seeping through clenched teeth. By this time Wolfwood and Isaiah had run to see what had happened, having heard her cry out and crash to the ground. None of them could move, riveted by fear and shock.

__

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…

Then, as suddenly as it began, the seizure ended. It all took maybe thirty seconds, a minute at the tops, but to the three who witnessed it, an eternity had passed. Vash fell to his knees, turning Edy on her side towards him and pulling her into his arms, pleading with her to wake up. Vash realized numbly that he was sobbing. He also realized that Isaiah was screaming, being held back by Wolfwood; tears of fear had even found a path down the normally less emotional priest's cheeks. 

Shaking, frantic hands wiped at Edy's chin, trying to get rid of the spit. Everything was blurred as Edy opened her eyes; she began to panic, unable to see well or remember what just happened. Her entire body hurt and she was so confused. Edy tried to speak, tried to ask Vash what was going on and why he was holding her there in the entryway, but nothing came out.

__

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…

From miles away came Wolfwood's voice, soothing Isaiah into a sniffling quiet and trying to keep his voice from breaking as he told Vash to pick Edy up and get her to Angelina II. 

The hospital, of course, they needed to get Edy to the hospital. 

Scooping her up into his arms, Vash held her close and followed Wolfwood to the motorcycle outside as he himself tried to calm Edy, who had begun to struggle in her confusion and fear. He vaguely recalled his friend telling Isaiah to stay and send the girls to St. Luke's, the closest hospital, as soon as they got into town; Isaiah himself wasn't allowed to leave the house, a fact that hadn't bothered him before then but now seemed to be a fate worse than torture followed slowly by death.

__

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…

Wolfwood took Edy while Vash settled himself into the sidecar and then passed her to the other man, helping to get her situated as best as possible; Wolfwood sent up a couple of thanks to the Man Upstairs for convincing him a month ago to outfit Angelina II with the sidecar. Jumping onto the motorcyle, the three of them sped off into the night.

Edy could feel the wind tearing at her but she couldn't see anything beyond blurred flares of light from time to time and the pale blob that was Vash's face. She also could feel his tears as they dripped onto her head, his own resting atop hers as she sat there, curled into a little ball in his lap. Only moans and awkward grunts and noises came out when she tried to speak again. The pain still lingered in her neck, though not as intense; it was a relief no matter how minor it seemed.

__

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…

Quiet resided over the emergency ward that night at St. Luke's; the nurse working the desk yawned and checked his watch, realizing with a groan that he still had eight more hours on his shift to go. He couldn't get over how dead the place had been all evening, no pun intended. Usually they were swamped.

Two men came bursting through the doors, one carrying a frightened, dazed-looking woman in his arms. Jumping from his seat the nurse rushed around from behind the desk to help them. So much for being bored.

__

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…

Within minutes Edy had been spirited away by doctors and nurses to assess what was wrong with her, leaving the men to slump down in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs without any clue about what just happened. Vash tried to stay with Edy but he had been politely but forcefully told to take a seat and be patient; she was in good hands now, they said. Everything would be alright now, they said. 

They stared at each other for awhile, Wolfwood and Vash both trying to silently and separately assimilate the events of the past twenty minutes. Then their staring eyes turned elsewhere, but not before Wolfwood passed Vash his handkerchief. The fearless gunman noisily blew the crying-snot from his nose and sniffled pitifully, his big turquoise eyes red and his cheeks blotchy from the tears.

__

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…

A doctor came to talk to them every fifteen to twenty minutes, asking questions about Edy's personal information and what they witnessed, as well as keeping them informed of any leeway they were making. The hospital had to bring in one of their neurologists who was on call that night and had to run several tests, including an MRI, so it was slow going. Vash spent much of the time fidgeting or pacing and Wolfwood spent much of it yelling at Vash to sit down.

After a couple of hours the Insurance Girls came running in, Milly crying and Meryl white as a sheet, her jaw taunt. Their arrival seemed to have been timed perfectly because as soon as they greeted the men, spreading hugs, tears, and choked words of comfort, the neurologist walked up.

__

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…

"Miss Gardener suffered a from a subarachnoid hemorrhagic stroke, caused by the bursting of a blood vessel near the surface of her brain," the neurologist explained, her voice kind and sympathetic. She made an effort to explain everything as simply as she could to the worried knot of the patient's friends that clustered before her, sensitive to their fears and apprehension. "That was what triggered the seizure. The blood vessels in her brain were surprisingly weak; coupling this with high blood pressure had brought on the hemorrhage and then the stroke.

"Thanks to the quick actions of you two gentlemen Miss Gardener is safely out of danger and resting comfortably. We will have to keep her here for a few days to observe her immediate recovery and then decide a course of long-term treatment; luckily, Miss Gardener will probably not have to undergo surgery unless her condition becomes significantly worse. More likely than not, with medication and some changes in her lifestyle, she'll be perfectly fine."

When all the information sank in, the four breathed a collective sigh and thanked the doctor for everything she did to help Edy. Still badly shaken but better, Vash and the girls followed the doctor to Edy's room in the ICU. Wolfwood told them he'd better go home and tell the other two about what was up; he promised to be back as quick as he could and ask them to send his regards and love to Edy until he could do so in person.

__

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God… Thank you for not taking her from us yet, thought Vash._ Thank you for not taking her from me yet_.

In all the chaos no one noticed the increase of black in Edy's hair, a fact that wouldn't be identified for another day or two until after things began to settle down; theories would have to wait until then to be formed about it as well. 

* * * * *

Myshkin: Phew! I don't know about you, but I'm completely drained after that. Sorry for the short chapter but I'm pooped after writing that. Jeez, where'd my tissues go… Why do I do this to myself! …_…


	21. Tears for Fears

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Twenty-One

Tears for Fears

The lights of the room were dimmed; in the middle of the spartan space hunkered the massive hospital bed. Although Edy wasn't a small woman, she looked like a tiny child laying there, her eyes closed, tubes and wires running from all over her body to numerous machines that lurked at her bedside. She looked like death warmed over, except she'd been taken out of the oven too soon and her insides were still cold.

Vash approached her, sat on the edge of the bed, and took her hand. A gentle squeeze caused her to open her eyes and squint up at who was there; although it was still blurry, her vision had already begun to improve. A tiny, earnest smile played on her pale lips when she realized who held her hand. 

How many times had he comforted her in her pains and troubles over the past few months? How much was she indebted to this gentle, kind-hearted man? Edy tried to say hello, but her words came out garbled and slurred; she couldn't make the words form properly in her mouth yet. Vash just smiled to say he understood and squeezed her hand even tighter as he fought back tears once more.

Milly had taken a seat on the other side of the bed but Meryl hung back in the doorway, unsure of what to say or do. Milly murmured kind words and told Edy all about what she and Meryl had been up to over the past month. She gently stroked Edy's matted, sweaty hair as she rambled on, trying to take all of their minds out and away from the cold, depressing hospital room.

Meryl hated hospitals and her discomfort was evident. Everything they symbolized reeked of death in her mind and seeing Edy here, especially in the intensive care unit, put her off completely.

A stroke… Old people had strokes, not young women in the prime of their lives. Could plants even have strokes? Meryl's knowledge of plant physiology was limited to almost nothing so she found no answers within herself.

Everything about this wasn't right. It wasn't how things were supposed to go. Milly and she were supposed to arrive to a loud, wonderful welcome and a huge, delicious feast. Everyone would laugh a lot, talk a lot, eat a lot, and stay up late into the night, making amends for lost time. Instead of being greeted by Vash's hyper joy, Wolfwood's sardonic grin and tongue, Edy'd loud, sincere laughter, and Isaiah's countless questions, the girls had only found Isaiah at home, in the living room with only a single lamp burning on the entire floor. 

He sat there, curled into a ball with his bony, young-boy, knees tucked under his chin and his skinny arms holding his legs in tight. Whatever book that had currently held his fascination, Meryl hadn't noticed the title or cared, laid open beside him, completely ignored. Isaiah had been absorbed in staring at nothing in particular, his face still blotchy from crying.

When he had tried to answer their questions about where everyone was, the boy broke down into tears and had to be swept up into Milly's smothering yet comforting arms before he could settle down enough to explain.

Meryl decided she would stay behind and make sure Knives didn't cause any trouble while Isaiah went to see his sister, but he balked at this, explaining the situation he was in. Besides, he needed to go up and tell the other plant what had happened; in his shock, Isaiah had forgotten about the remaining tenant of the household until Meryl had mentioned him. Knives was probably besides himself, locked up and ignorant to what all the commotion had been about.

So the girls went to the hospital, staying there until late into night; Vash wanted to stay all night but the hospital staff kicked him out, claiming visiting hours were long over and he was in their way. As soon as they left Isaiah pulled out the old wooden case once more. 

The gun had been cleaned and put away properly after its last trip out; not a finger had touched it since. Isaiah's training had been put off, secretly relieving him after he saw first hand the damage the weapon could do to flesh and bone. Carefully he unwrapped the weapon from it's black bedding and loaded it just as slowly. Isaiah wanted to vomit.

This sort of protection from Knives probably wasn't necessary, but the almost cumbersome weight in Isaiah's shaking hands brought him a tiny amount of relief. Edy swore that Knives posed no threat to the plants, but Isaiah would never forget the showdown in the cave, not in all his live long days.

Knives terrified him not only because of who he was, but what he was as well. A plant. They were the same physically, although not mentally. Knives could create blades with his own hand and his twin brother a gun (so Vash said; Isaiah had only seen defensive feathers brought forth by the better plant). Edy, on the other hand, could heal and so could her mother, a full female plant unlike her off-spring. The gender difference had started Isaiah to thinking, drawing upon his extensive knowledge of philosophy and literature, old and ancient.

The best theory he could come up with was that the creative properties of a woman had set the basis for the healing aspect. A woman could create and carry life virtually on her own, with only a little nudge from a man; according to some folklore, the first women could even do so without a man's touch. As for men, they never know what it is like to carry a life within themselves. Perhaps there needs to be a balance, life-giver and life-taker. Nature seemed to work in duality, but where did plants fit into nature?

Not knowing the answer to this, Isaiah feared his own power and how it would manifest itself when he became older. It wouldn't be much longer, if Vash and Knives' experiences were any example. Five years, maybe less. What would happen when his gift (or in his mind, his bane) would at last show its face?

These thoughts had been present beneath much of his waking life recently and they surfaced once more to carry him up the stairs, his father's gun clutched between two sweaty hands. Knees refused to flex and extend smoothly, trying to hinder the ascent. Not even bothering to bring a lamp since it would take one hand away from the weapon in his death grip, Isaiah squinted into the darkness and felt his way upward with his unsteady feet.

Knives' bedroom door stood near the top of the stairs, looming like the entrance to a tomb, locking away untold and primordial evils. There were ten different locks and dead bolts lining the edge of the door, all of which the plant could probably easily slice through now that he had recovered significantly. Isaiah wondered why he hadn't yet; maybe it was because he had no where to run, or even the ability to run.

Isaiah still remembered the day the locksmith came. Having nothing better to do, he, Vash, Wolfwood, and Edy had hung about the poor man as he worked, watching intently something that really stood only a notch above drying paint entertainment value-wise. When all the shiny new locks and bolts at last held the door securely shut the locksmith stood and eyed Edy, who stood between the two grown men. At last he shrugged and tromped down the stairs, shooting a parting, snide remark over his shoulder.

"It takes all kinds, honey. You can keep your men in line any way you want," he said. It was amazing how much Isaiah didn't understand, considering how well-read he was; why this comment made Edy and Vash blush madly while Wolfwood collapsed in a fit of laughter added to the list of "When you're older"s. Only later when he recounted the story to the Insurance Girls, who had sadly missed it the first time around due to a pressing report that needed to be written, did they through their tears and mirth explain it to the young boy. Isaiah couldn't stop blushing and scowling at his sister and the two men every time he saw them for a week. 

Grown-ups were so weird, and far too obsessed with sex. That was another thing Isaiah dreaded about growing older.

Forced to release his handle on the gun, Isaiah reach forward to undo each lock, slowly but surely. A trembling hand pulled the door open. Inside he found not a ravenous monster crouched in the middle of soiled, shredded sheets, spittle flying wildly as the beast tossed its head in fury and indignation (as his over-active imagination excepted Knives to appear) but a seemingly ordinary man standing at the tiny, lone window, the moonlight gleaming off of his crutches.

Watching him turn from the window, Isaiah caught a glimpse of a face awash in fear. It was only a glimpse, because as soon as Knives saw the boy, his mask clamped down tight over his visage.

"What happened, Isaiah," he asked calmly, almost coolly. Few people in this world had spent enough time with Knives before expiring to learn his tones and mannerisms. If Edy or Vash had been there they would have known his worry and panic ran deep. Since it was just Isaiah, he thought the plant was a frigid prick. Inexpertly training the gun on Knives, Isaiah explained what happened in clipped, short phrases. 

Much to his surprise, he watched the pale moonlight catch in the older plant's eyes as the scene from hours before unfolded in Isaiah's words. Slowly he made his way to the bed, sitting, releasing his arms from the cuffs, and setting the crutches to the side.

"She'll live," he whispered, half a question, half a plea.

"I… don't know. No word yet, hopefully soon," Isaiah muttered around clenched teeth and tears threatening to escape once again. He was already mortified at how he sobbed like a baby in Milly's arms only fifteen, twenty minutes before and there stood no chance in Hell that he'd lose it in front of Knives. Knives apparently no longer had such reservations himself.

Broad shoulders, slimmed down from prolonged sickness and bed-rest, shook, hands normally so sure and strong hid a face that had only shown Isaiah anger, hatred, disgust, and indifference before. Racking sobs tore from his throat as Knives wept.

As Knives truly and honestly wept.

* * * * *

The uncomfortable moment where Isaiah lost all will to point the muzzle of the gun at the bastard's head passed quickly. Heavy footsteps and those damn bells told of a visitor; Isaiah ran out of the room, slamming the door and sending the bolts home as quickly as possible. Wolfwood's voice called throughout the house, looking for Isaiah, so the boy complied, running down the stairs as quickly as he could.

"Is Edy okay," he shouted before he even saw the priest's stooped figure, weighed down with fatigue and worries. "Is she going to be okay, where is she, what happened?"

The questioned kept coming in a flood even after he ran into Wolfwood, the older man actually drawing Isaiah into a hug before he answered any of them.

"Edy's going to be just fine; nothing's going to take her down, not even a stroke," he tried to joke. "It was only a minor one, even though it didn't look like it; the doctors are telling us she'll be home in a week. We'll have to keep a close eye on her, and no more work for a while, Edy's going to hate that, but it's going to be okay. You should come see her, I'll bring you back with me."

Isaiah pulled away from Wolfwood's relieved ramblings and his embracing arms, shaking his head no. He'd promised Edy he wouldn't let anyone see him, that he'd keep their secret safe. Although it tore him to itty bitty pieces inside that he'd have to wait a week before seeing his sister, Isaiah didn't want to do anything that could bring suspicion down on them. There was no way they'd take him away from Edy, not after she was almost taken away from him. Wolfwood knew why he couldn't go; why was he tempting him so much?

"You should get back to the hospital; I'll tell Knives that Edy'll be alright," he muttered, his voice catching on the suggestion to see the other plant again so soon.

"Fuck 'em, let the bastard wallow in what ever emotions he might be capable of feeling right now," Wolfwood replied, a degree more bitter than he would like to have sounded. 

Something needed to take on his anxiety, to be a scapegoat, and Knives was handy. In a convoluted and round-about way, neither he nor Vash would have met the Gardeners or have been in such a situation if it hadn't been for the little shit. One more reason to loathe the guy; Wolfwood hated being so wrapped up in the lives of these people, so much so that their lives had become his own. He hated actually loving someone for the first time in a long, long while. Love was weak, and no one who was weak could survive.

Isaiah nodded, agreeing to the particularly evil suggestion. Let Knives fester in his tears.

"You probably haven't gotten any dinner yet, have you," Isaiah asked, changing the subject to more mundane, less spiteful things.

"Now that you mention it, I think my stomach has turned itself inside out trying to find something to digest. Let's get some grub."

So they did. Upstairs, Knives had almost cried himself to sleep. He lay there, fully dressed, snot and tears making his face sticky as they dried upon his cheeks, lips, and chin. With a half-hearted swipe of his shirt sleeve he wiped much of it away. Confusion whipped his head into a terrible ache, coupled with the crying.

__

Why? Why am I so upset? I don't understand…


	22. Dissolution

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Myshkin: Yeah, Knives sobbing is a tad OC, but he's changing inside. Sort of. Actually, in most ways he's still the same rat bastard, but the one who treated him as her equal almost died. Even Vash never seemed to do that past their childhood on the ship; he was too afraid of what his brother was capable of and hated his ideology. At least, that's how I interpreted it. But anyways, I digress. On to the story! 

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dissolution 

Edy actually ended up spending two weeks in the hospital; the girls hung around as long as they could until duty called them away once more. They left with a flurry of promises to be back in a few weeks for Edy's birthday; the celebration they had planned for this trip would have to be pushed back till then, making it twice as hard to wait for. Wolfwood and Isaiah were the only ones to see them off, Vash and Edy still being at the hospital. The priest gave his "favorite Insurance Girl" a hug and a kiss good-bye, much to the embarrassment of both Isaiah and Meryl, and then the girls were gone once more.

At last Edy came home, much to the relief of her boys. Her movements were less sure and her speech still relatively garbled, but she was getting better. Recovery at home called for some extra help around the house; Knives and Isaiah were of little use, one having almost completely cut himself off from Vash and now Edy, and the other too small mass-wise to be of any use if Edy needed a hand getting around. So Vash, with the approval of Luc, took off to play Suzy Homemaker for a few weeks. 

Wolfwood had words for why it wasn't him that got to cut out from work, most of them vulgar, but everyone ignored him, like usual.

The days passed slowly, like Karo syrup from the bottle, dark overtones of sadness casting a shadow over the household. No amount of attempts at jest and light-heartedness from Wolfwood or Edy could cheer up Vash, Isaiah, or Knives. Quite frankly, it was depressing, and no one knew what to do about it.

One afternoon, Edy and Vash sat out on the back porch, taking in some air and talking. Really, Edy talked and Vash stared out at nothing, absorbing very little of what she was saying.

"Soon, I'll start-work… soon," Edy's voice light around the slow, garbled, and whole-hearted effort it took of her to form her sentences; all for an inattentive audience, too, she grumbled inwardly. "It'll… b-be good, to-be-of… use again. And, you'll go… go back-to Luc's too. Wolfwood c-can-stop… bitch… ing."

Vash just nodded vaguely in response.

"Spit it out… Vash."

Her tone had turned stern, causing the blonde man to reel in his mind from the depths where it had currently been trolling for thoughts. Sighing, Vash spat it out, knowing he couldn't beat around the bush with Edy for long.

"When did you heal last," he asked, accusing and hurt at the same time. "Why did you sneak around my back, Edy? You promised you would stop. Don't you understand…"

Her unconscious hand ran itself through Edy's hair, ruffling the mostly black locks that had grown quite a bit since she shorn them off that night long ago. She had taken note of this fact too, that her life was slipping through her fingers, regardless of what she did; it was really the same with humans, though. 

But she had quit, Knives being the last to receive her ministrations. She couldn't remember exactly, but the change seemed to have taken place after the stroke. 

"Knives… was-the-last. In, in the cave."

Vash had expected Edy to get angry, to snap at him. She usually did when confronted by anyone. But now her response was soft, a tiny hint of a plea to believe what she said.

"Then…"

"Human," she explained. "My body is-half… my father… I don't-think, don't think it can handle the… p-plant… in-me." 

Vash just sat there, surprised but not horrified. It didn't make a whole lot of sense and yet it did. If part of her was human, the amount of energy that it took to do what a plant could would destroy the body's systems almost instantaneously. Edy had the ability of a plant without a strong enough body to support it. That explained why she was so sickly. Didn't make it any easier for Vash, but it did explain it.

"Don't… Knives…" she added, barely speaking.

Vash shifted to take her hand in his, putting on his warmest smile for her.

"Of course I won't tell Knives."

They sat there for the rest of the afternoon, silent, hand in hand, while the world continued to turn beneath the twin suns.

* * * * *

Knives paced restlessly, a caged tiger ready to go. He knew his fangs could make quick work of the door that held him back, but his legs weren't nearly up to par. Late nights had been spent testing his arm, testing his limits, but it was all useless if he couldn't run. If he couldn't get away. 

__

Tunk, tunk, tunk… Tunk, tunk, tunk…Tunk, tunk… pause_…_

The noise his crutches made on the wooden floor stopped suddenly, pensively. Knives needed out, now. He needed to absorb Isaiah and Edy… His heart caught on the thought of drawing Edy into himself, obliterating her consciousness effectively as she melded into Isaiah and himself, as well as all who would follow just like before. They would blend inside him and be a part of him but never be individual minds and souls again; unless one believed in reincarnation and that would only come when he no longer contained them. Fat chance that would be any time soon.

This line of thinking set up an effective rope across his path, clothes-lining him and dropping his heart to the ground in a flash. In anger he slammed one crutch into the foot of the bed, sending a chunk flying. Why did the idea of ending Edy as an unique being hold him back? This attachment to others, this was what made Vash so despicable to him. That, and the fact that Vash was attached to humans. Knives honestly would take in his own brother if he hadn't already tried and failed.

Vash. That was another problem. Even if Knives managed to absorb the Gardeners and figured out how to get away, his brother would chase him down before he could get very far. The ships were still a long time coming; his plan would have to be executed within a small span of time directly before their arrival.

Until then, he would have to wait. Knives wanted nothing to do with this life any more. He didn't want to have wavering convictions and emotional bonds. It all got in the way of everything.

Damn Edy. Damn her and her kind words and patient nature. Damn her for her stubborn refusal to give up on him. Damn her for ever meeting him, for ever shooting him, for ever giving a rat's ass about him. Damn, damn, damn that woman.

Damn.

* * * * *

While Edy, with the help of Isaiah, set to work getting dinner around, Vash meandered out towards the sounds of Wolfwood working on Angelina II. He didn't remember the priest mentioning that the motorcycle needed any work, but then again, it could have been something to keep the man's hands busy while he tried to de-stress after a long day on his feet.

On the side of the house sat the bike, with all Wolfwood's tools splayed out across the ground. He himself squatted with his back to the blonde visitor, carefully trying to work, smoke, and keep himself from getting blown up at the same time. Vash just stood and watched him for a moment before the other man spoke.

"Tongari, I'm heading out soon," Wolfwood stated matter-of-factly, never turning from his work.

"Oh, where you going," Vash asked cheerfully, oblivious. "I don't think we need anything from the store. The tavern? You need company? I'm sure Edy would love a night out and away from the house; I've got to spend some times with Knives tonight, he's becoming really antisocial, ever since… ever since everything happened."

"No Vash, you don't get it," snapped Wolfwood, interrupting his friend as he whirled around to face him. "I'm leaving for good. I've gotten too attached to this life, but the longer I stick around, the harder it's been to live it."

His anger had flared up, but after taking a breath, Wolfwood continued, calmer and lighter, as if it was all nothing, no big deal.

"If I leave, maybe there's something I can do to keep you all safe. I know Elendira and Legato are out there still and if they know what's going on, things won't be so nice for the others when they finally catch up with their master. I've kept my ear to the ground and there are rumblings that they're looking for him. If there's something I can do to keep innocents out of the crossfire, I'll do it."

"Wolfwood, striking out on your own to hunt them down won't do anyone any good. You know you can't take them both yourself. If they do come here, which I highly doubt they will, I need you to be here as well to fight them off."

"Tongari, I can't stay here."

"Wolfwood…"

"I'm staying until Edy's birthday in a week, and then I'll be gone. Edy's healing fast; you and her will be able to take care of the household yourself by then. Neither of you really need me. Not really."

"We'll see each other again."

"Maybe…"

"No," Vash said, defiance flashing in his eyes, "you're not going to disappear like this for good. When the ships come, when we leave for Earth, our lives are going to change for the better."

"Still holding on to that futile hope, Tongari," spat the other man. "Knives will never board those ships and he won't let them leave this planet. Who's going to stay behind to make sure he doesn't destroy us all? You? Are you going to play the fucking sacrificial lamb once more and throw away any chance you have at a normal life?"

"Normal is something I'll probably never know," he murmured in the face of Wolfwood's storm. "I'm kidding myself now that this," he gestured at the house, his home, "is normal, that this is real. You're right, I am kidding myself. I don't have any other ideas besides staying behind. When it comes time, promise me you'll be alive and able to board those ships with the Insurance Girls, Isaiah, and Edy. They'll need you then, just like they need you now."

"I'll see what I can do," came the reply. "Just don't tell anyone that I'm leaving, okay?"

"Okay. I guess it's good luck, then. Isaiah's going to hate you for this, you know."

"He looks up to you more," Wolfwood laughed softly. 

As more time was spent together, Isaiah had opened up more to both of the men, especially Wolfwood. Eternally cool Wolfwood who rode a motorcycle, smoked, and never seemed to take anything too seriously. Everyone in the house knew that Vash had quickly been knocked from his position on Isaiah's pedestal to be replaced by the scruffy, fowl-mouth priest. 

"Nah, not really. I can tell the way he acts around you; you're his idol. He's already taking to wearing black in the middle of this god-forsaken desert planet. If it weren't for Edy's flat out refusal to allow him that filthy habit at so young an age, he'd probably be smoking already too."

"Try to make him understand it's nothing personal."

"Yeah…"

"Tongari…"

"What?"

"Wipe your nose, your snotting all over yourself. For Christ's sake, do you ever stop crying?"


	23. Adult Items

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Twenty-Three

Adult Items 

"And then I said 'Sorry sweetie, but I only take _monetary_ tips.' The poor woman was so flustered at being found out she nearly ran out of there right after paying the bill, her husband dragged along by his necktie."

Laughter filled the kitchen as Wolfwood finished his story with an actual reenactment of said husband's exit at the hands of his embarrassed wife. As the laughter died down and conversation shifted elsewhere, Wolfwood plopped down in his seat and poured himself another drink. To his left sat a rather flushed and goofier-than-usual Milly and to his right a hiccupping Edy who couldn't seem to get her giggles under control. In front of him on the table sat the remains of the ridiculously huge dinner and more than a few empty bottles. Needless to say, the air at Edy's birthday celebration was more than jovial. Wolfwood wanted it to be that exactly as it was; he needed happy memories of his last time together with his friends because little happiness lay on the road before him.

"To the Birthday Girl!" Vash shouted suddenly, toasting Edy for the hundredth time since they'd started drinking, among other things worthy of praise such as Insurance Girls, dirty priests, liquor, and puppies. Roscoe actually added his deep voice in on the last one, some how knowing it was appropriate or would at least elicit almost debilitating mirth from the inebriated humans. Vash received in response to his most recent toast an enthusiastic echo, most of then too far along in their drinks to remember that they said this many times before.

Meryl remembered, but said nothing, enjoying the show put on by the others. She had spent the whole night with hardly a drop of alcohol in her but she still was having a wonderful time. It was good to see Edy looking so much better; it was amazing how quickly she rebounded from something so serious, but maybe that was they way plants were. 

She had no clue that Edy's plant physiology was such a double edged sword, or that humanity played a role in her decreasing health. Meryl also couldn't guess why Knives seemed to still be so incapacitated from bullet wounds and a stroke had only barely put Edy back. Some people were fighters though, and Meryl tried to never be amazed by what the human mind was capable of.

Poking his head in from the front hall, Isaiah gave the group his best death glare; it was well past three in the morning and it didn't look like the party would break up any time soon. Edy, laughing, motioned for Isaiah to come on in and over to her. He reluctantly complied and she pulled him onto lap, much like she held him when he was smaller. 

"Remember when you were little? You were always begging me to sit down just so you could sit on my lap; you said it must have been made for you because you fit so perfectly," Edy reminisced in her still very slow but much clearer speech, slurred from time to time because of both the liquor and the stroke's lingering affects. She wrapped her arms around her brother as he sat there stiffly, embarrassed beyond belief. 

"Yeah, well, I'm too old for that now. And you're drunk," he muttered almost bitterly.

"An observant child," she laughed, "Still, you're too young to know this ultimate truth."

"Which is…" Isaiah asked with a sigh, knowing he wouldn't be allowed to leave until he did.

"You're never too old to snuggle!" she shouted, crushing him in a bear hug as he struggled to get away amid the laughter of the others. At last he broke free and scampered out of the kitchen, shooting back yet another attempt at a look-o'-doom before disappearing into another less occupied region of the house.

"Aw, you scared him away," Wolfwood said with a mock frown.

"Good, now we can continue in peace," Edy replied. "There's no chance he'll come down for yet another mortifying encounter with Big Sister."

Meryl laughed along with the others; it was good to see Edy looking so much better. Meryl no longer hated her, pity replacing that dark emotion in her heart. Still, she saw the way Vash looked at her, the way he acted around her… That wasn't just friendship, whether Edy or Vash were consciously aware of it or not.

__

We really shouldn't have given her that dress for her birthday, Meryl thought to herself.

While taking a break from a case one day, Milly and Meryl had stumbled upon a boutique in the tiny town where they were staying. Deciding it appeared to be worth a closer look, the girls entered and there found, at least what Milly thought to be, the perfect gift for Edy. Hanging on a dress form in the middle of the floor was a gorgeous, deep red dress. Wide straps tapered to meet a square neckline and the gauzy, layered skirt draped from the high waist to what would probably be around the calves. Milly swore it had been made specifically for Edy (Meryl never could fathom exactly why) and insisted it to be the woman's birthday gift from the both of them. Having no other ideas on what to get her, Meryl agreed. As it turned out, when they gave it to her and she tried it on, it really did seem to have been made specifically for her.

And damn it all, she looked good in it. 

Meryl would just have to give up her girlish crush and move on. Not that she didn't stand as worthy competition against Edy. She just knew when to fight and when to throw in the towel. That didn't mean she would drop Vash as a friend and comrade, though; love doesn't last forever, you know. 

Meryl had learned much patience since she first met Vash so long ago. She could wait. 

Joining Milly in recapping one of their recent exploits, Meryl jumped back into the conversation. More bottles were brought out and more stories were told as the night wore on into the morning.

* * * * *

At long last the end to the evening arrived and everyone stumbled off to their respective beds. Edy had set up the cot in the hall once more and collapsed upon it, ready for sleep without even bothering with unnecessary things as undressing. Guilt crept through the sleepy haze as the realization that Knives had been ignored all night long dawned in her mind. Pushing herself up she slowly, methodically unlocked the door to the plant's room. She was only going to peek in and make sure he was sleeping soundly, but to Edy's surprise Knives was sitting up in bed, reading by the lamplight.

"Hey," she murmured, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her, "I didn't know you'd still be up."

Knives let his gaze dart up to her and back to his book; at least, he planned it to be a quick inspection followed by an even quicker snub, but things don't always go as one plans. He wanted to give Edy the cold shoulder but he couldn't when she looked that attractive.

__

Stop it! I'm an asexual being with righteous genocidal tendencies! he chided himself.

Edy wasn't one for dresses, but since it had been a gift, she agreed to wear it that night, at Milly's urgings. The other chance of her wearing a dress anytime soon had dissipated when her friend Sarah called off the wedding; Edy had been relieved to hear this news for numerous reasons, although she wished the girl hadn't run off with her fiancee's brother and cut all ties with anyone from her old life, Edy included. People were so weird.

Under Knives' scrutinizing eyes discomfort grew in Edy; she felt like she stood before him naked, although that was hardly the case. The square neckline did hang low on the gentle curves of her bosom and the skirt gracefully slid down, accenting her wide hips, but it's hem rested five inches below her knees. The fishnet stockings (also part of the gift and something of a joke) that covered her legs and bare feet did little add to the skin showing. Black waves of hair hugged her jaw line now and tiny silver combs held her blonde bangs out of her face; a velvet ribbon choker of the same color as the dress wrapped itself snuggly around her long neck.

Furious at the fact he was staring, Knives practically threw his eyes back into his book. Internally he admonished his silly, "romantic" notions. Outwardly he spoke in a tone of icy poison.

"How could I not be awake still, with the racket downstairs. You certainly know how to have a wonderful, base time with alcohol and humans. That murderous _human_ priest must have loved seeing your breasts on a platter in a dress like that. Disgusting."

Edy may have still been drunk but upon hearing this her thoughts sobered up a great deal. A deep flush swelled up said bosom, rolling up her features in a wave of embarrassed anger. Edy was furious, humiliated, and nearly speechless. Nearly.

"I have no idea what crawled up your ass and died these past few weeks, but you'd better get your bowels moving again before I block them permanently with your own testicles!"

Knives boiled at the remark even though he knew he deserved it.

"I'm not the one gallivanting about like a two double-dollar whore," retorted Knives. "Are you happy with that kind of attention! I bet you loved having Vash and the priest rake across your tender body with their eyes."

"Oh, I get it now," Edy snapped through gritted teeth, biting back a smirk, "you're jealous! Well, I guess that's a round-about way of complimenting me but you need to work on your manners, so I'll leave you to yourself for a while. Bastard…"

With that, Edy left. Knives should have been happy; he was being absolutely terrible to Edy, pushing her away quite effectively. Still, he felt pity at her labored speech and thoughts about the dress and the body inhabiting it plagued him. Self-loathing gnawed at him and he wanted to vomit. 

Master of his emotions, untouchable, yeah right. Knives didn't know it yet but Edy had touched him and would do so again, only to rip his heart out.

* * * * *

Myshkin: I know Edy's recovery is quite swift, but I'm basing everything that happened to her on my real life experiences with my grandfather. It took six strokes, heart disease, seizures and complications from alcoholism to finally take him down at the age of 69 (he had his first gran mal seizure and stroke around the age of 32) and I honestly believe that he recovered so well and so fast from almost each stroke because of his ever positive and incredibly stubborn mind set. God bless you, Grandpa Menkhus. Never underestimate the power of the human mind. Never.

Anyways… (jumps off of soap box and wanders away, humming to herself)


	24. Sugar and Spice

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sugar and Spice

Vash had heard shouting upstairs; the words were unintelligible but the voices weren't. Edy and Knives. He gritted his teeth and glanced over at a sleeping Wolfwood, aware that inebriation was probably a rouse, as it had been with him. He planned to stop Wolfwood from leaving, or at least try, but he couldn't let the row upstairs continue. Edy could take care of herself; it was Knives he was worried about. Another couple of shattered shins were nothing compared to a woman's fury unleashed, Vash had learned during his long years.

Even as he reached the hall it stopped. Vash sighed, torn between figuring out what Knives had said to Edy (he always was the one who started things, so it had to have been Knives' fault) and keeping an eye on the priest. He lingered a moment too long in his deliberations because by the time Vash returned to their shared room, Wolfwood was gone. 

Very little of his things had disappeared, seeing as he probably had hardly any need of the things from a sedentary life where he was going. Vash couldn't help but smile sadly to himself, though, noting that the few pictures he had tacked up to the wall of the three girls, Isaiah, and himself were missing. Wolfwood never seemed to be the sentimental type, or the material type, and dragging some peoples' pictures around with him really wasn't the preacher man's style. 

Of course, he also wasn't the type to keep a lady's letter close to his heart on his travels either and Wolfwood would have killed the blonde man for knowing of this fact. Vash couldn't help it, he just happened to come across it in the dark-haired man's new jacket one day while snooping. Apparently Edy had set it aside for him when she pitched their old clothes after their first meeting, judging from the blood stains that mottled the rough, not yet beginning to age paper. Of course he just had to read it; it managed to fall completely open upon the table, with some convincing. It took all the control Vash knew not to rib his friend about this one.

Some people never cease to surprise you. 

Vash never moved a thing of Wolfwood's, leaving it all exactly where it had been left. Edy thought it was kind of creepy, like the man had died and they couldn't bring themselves to part with all that remained of his life, and told Vash this once. Vash had no response, unable to tell her that he probably was dead. The real reason for Wolfwood's disappearance was never completely conveyed to the others, although the Insurance Girls could probably guess, but Vash did keep his promise to try and convince Isaiah that it wasn't personal and that Wolfwood didn't want to leave but he had to. He wasn't sure the boy bought it.

Knowing that if he followed Wolfwood he was in for a world of hurt, Vash sighed and made his way upstairs to deal with those that remained.

* * * * *

It was completely dark on the second floor but Vash's eyes adjusted and he realized Edy sat on her cot, knees tucked under her chin and still clothed in her lovely birthday gift. Vash had gushed when she first made her entrance wearing the dress; he had never seen her in anything much besides baggy old khakis and button up shirts, the sleeves rolled always to the elbows. It wasn't that she didn't look pretty normally, she just never looked like a girl before, except for those times when Vash had helped bandage her back while it was healing. Even then that was different.

"What is it Vash," he heard her ask, her voice tired and sluggish. She was worn out and the words were slow and difficult to come. She also sounded extremely, extremely irate and far more sober that she did when she had come up earlier.

"I heard the shouting. I was concerned, that's all," he answered, keeping his voice low and soft.

"I don't believe I'll ever understand your brother. I'm not sure I really want to any more," she spat as best she could. It was now, when she was weakest that the lingering results of the stroke plagued her most.

"What did he do now," Vash asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"All I've ever been is nice to him, open, caring, concerned," Edy continued on her rant and ignoring Vash's question, quiet but obviously still upset. "You'd think that he didn't have a heart the way he's been acting ever since… ever since I was in the hospital. Complete change, no trust, and obviously no consideration for other people's feelings."

"Knives… He's someone that although I love him, I'm not sure I like him," Vash admitted to Edy. "Does that make me a terrible person? I don't know, probably. So I try to be as good as I can and ignore the crap he says to me. I know he doesn't mean it, not really." 

If it had been lighter, Edy would have been able to see the tiny grin that played on Vash's lips. He turned towards her and could make out her soft form beside him. They were sitting close like they usually did, but Vash normally wasn't so aware of her physical presence as he was at that moment.

"You're too strong, too wonderful, and too beautiful of a person to let him get to you like this," he added, knowing his words sounded cliché but meaning them whole-heartedly. Edy snorted and shifted away from him, cool air replacing her warmth as she shifted down the cot.

"That's all you men think of, isn't it? Just when you think they're different, that they really don't give a rat's ass about looks, it always comes back to that. Always."

Now Vash was completely confused. He had absolutely no clue what she was talking about and the gender gap seemed to be widening by the second. Their friendship never seemed to notice that one was of one sex and the other of the opposite but all of a sudden it smacked him in the face.

"Wha…" was all he could manage before Edy cut him off. He could feel her shift suddenly, shaking the bed as she turned towards him quickly.

"They're lovely, aren't they? Out on a platter for the world to see! Hope you enjoyed them, because it's the last time they'll see the light of day again!"

"They who," poor Vash could only stutter, so thoroughly lost that his head needed a directory to find the thread of the conversation again. Edy sighed and slumped back against the wall with a light thump. When she spoke again she was apologetic.

"I'm sorry Vash, I'm attacking you for absolutely no good reason. God, I'm such a bitch…"

"No! Of course not," Vash insisted, still trying to catch up. 

"Knives said some particularly rude things about how I looked tonight, and although I think I know why he said it, it still burns me up. I've never tried to put myself forward but that doesn't keep guys away; the local men were always offering a hand, coming around, being pest until you boys moved in. I do have to thank you three for that.

"I'm not a whore, I never dress like one, it was just tonight because I knew Milly would be so happy if I wore the dress…"

"Knives called you a whore?!" Vash almost shouted, trying to keep his voice low so he wouldn't bother the girls or Knives. No wonder Edy was so upset; his brother certainly had a way with words, especially big, pointy, ones.

"Actually, a two double-dollar whore to be exact; he also seemed to know for a fact that I liked the way you and Wolfwood drooled over my chest all evening, since they were on a platter and he was there all night to watch how you guys acted around me."

Vash was furious. How could… Why did… Why was Knives being so horrible to her? this was beyond his comprehension.

"I think he was just jealous, really," Edy continued, "and sad that he's never allowed to join in the fun. Well, he wouldn't have wanted to be around Wolfwood, Milly, or Meryl, but no one likes to be left out, even evil recluses bent on the destruction of all mankind."

She paused, smiling to herself. Vash could hear the shift in her humor, taking a lighter turn as she finished her thoughts. Edy didn't really hate Knives, but man, did he get under her skin sometimes.

"And I think he liked the dress… a lot."

Vash's anger began to ebb away and he couldn't help but laugh a little, quietly. Edy joined him, sitting closer to him once more.

"I like it a lot too," Vash said, "but I like the whole dress and not just… your… you know…"

He was blushing madly, unable to finish the sentence and thankful for the darkness; he had no clue why he even began the statement outside of his head. Edy laughed once more, her mood considerably happier than when Vash had first come up. 

__

Definitely not going to tell her about Wolfwood until tomorrow, he thought.

"I'm glad you like it, Vash," she said, leaning upon his shoulder, ready to drop off to sleep. Vash would have jumped at the sudden, soft contact if he hadn't wanted it to continue so much. She hardly initiated any touch between them even though she never stiffened or pulled away from Vash any more. He was a good hugger and his hand slipped into hers always comforted her, but she never seemed to be able to make the first move before. Surprised but delighted, Vash wrapped his arms around her, shifting so she laid her head against his chest and he rested with his back against the walls.

Edy's breathing deepened and Vash had thought she had fallen asleep. He reveled in this moment, enjoying being so close to Edy, yet feeling guilty that he should be allowed such a selfish, little pleasure. The more time he spent with her, the less he wanted the ships to come and disrupt his peaceful life; well, not completely, but he really hoped that something would happen to change the current situation and allow him to go with them, with her. 

Without hardly realizing what he was doing, Vash gently pressed his lips upon the top of her head, kissing her hair softly as she slept. 

"Vash…" she murmured, looking up into the darkness at him. Crap. She wasn't asleep yet.

What had he done? He had promised himself he wouldn't do anything like this, anything that could threaten their quiet existence. What were promises for if you didn't intend to keep them? Vash could judge nothing from Edy's reaction, her voice too soft and the hall too dark to betray any emotions, so he decided to try and play it of as nothing.

"Hmm," he asked, playing Innocently Platonic Boy. Her hand tentatively touched his jaw, his cheek, his hair. So tender, so sweet.

"Why," she whispered.

"Because you're Edy," he answered, his words brushing her lips as he leaned in so close.

__

This isn't playing it off as nothing!

He paused, a little frightened, a little unsure, and they stayed there for a few moments, only the sound of their breathing filling the empty space around them.

__

This is what I want, but what about Edy, he thought. _Have I gone and messed everything up_?

Closing the slim gap between them, Edy answered his question, becoming the most pleasant surprise to ever have come out of left field in the history of his existence; all without speaking a word.

* * * * *

Myshkin: Okay, I was going to hold back on the kiss and everything, but I decided you all have been a wonderful audience and you deserve a little something for your troubles. Of course, all you Meryl fans and those that expressed dislike for Edy probably hate me right now, but sorry; if you really want some VxM action, feel free to look elsewhere or write your own. Anyways, enough with the hostilities. Let's all celebrate that Legato's going to be hanging around and the coolest, baddest, most cross-dressiest Gung Ho Gun, Elendira, is about to make his first appearance in a fanfic ever (as far as I know; I could be wrong though, and I hope so, because he's so awesome!) Woot! Their appearance would have been in this chapter but it was nearly ten pages and going strong so I had to cut back; patience, next chapter the action'll start up again. (I also wonder how many words I've made up this chapter?) *Throws streamers around for a while, amusing herself, and then wanders off in search of something shiner to hold her attention.*


	25. Escort Service

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Twenty-Five

Escort Service

The bar was dim, dirty, and filled with men of questionable morals; regardless, it was cheap and Providence had placed it in Wolfwood's path that night. The unwelcome stares and threatening buzz of talk deterred him not from mission: to get blitzed out of his mind. Slumped low in a booth, hovering over a bottle of what should have been whiskey but tasted more like a piss/gasoline hybrid, Wolfwood wanted to retch before he even took his first sip. The smell alone foretold of a wonderful evening centered around a pivotal waste management solution made of porcelain. Whatever it really happened to be didn't concern the priest too much because the stuff certainly did the trick. It was only a matter of time before his tongue grew thick, his brain fuzzy, and he lingered between pissed and depressed. Wolfwood downed full glasses time and time again.

Rarely in Wolfwood's life did he ever drink enough to surpass his limit and lose control, but after a month on the road with no sign of Legato, Elendira, or the Ark, Knives' airship that had taken him from plant to plant before the showdown, the priest felt he deserved to drown in his glass at least once. Apparently a quadriplegic nutcase and a murderous transvestite in a huge flying fortress wasn't remarkable enough for anyone to take note of; Neither hide nor hair had been seen of the two and if he had been the type to give up the hunt, he would; anyone else would have in his shoes. Still, Wolfwood pressed on, trying to keep to the task while attempting to shove away memories of home. (_Home… Was it really mine enough to call it that, _he thought to himself.)

And, oblivious to this frantic attempt to prevent disaster, the ships from Earth drew ever closer, only a month or so away.

"Bugger it all," he muttered, throwing back another drink with a grimace. He tried to ignore the catcalls and whistle that rose above the normal din, suddenly disturbing his quality wallowing time. Some broad had probably just walked in all whored up and looking for a thrill, a drink, or a client, but Wolfwood could care less. He hardly noticed, the event not even making a foot note in his novel "The Big Book of Pity Partying: How to do it Right When Everything is so Wrong." Wolfwood continued to stew in his seat, not even looking up when someone sat down across from him, sharing _his _booth without _his _permission.

__

If I ignore whoever it is, maybe they'll go away.

The large suitcase that firmly yet discretely lodged itself in his crotch under the table said otherwise. It was pretty hard to ignore but Wolfwood, as ever, kept his cool.

"Where is he Chapel?"

He didn't have to look up to know what the person across from him looked like. Well-dressed, tall, fair hair tucked back and curled out just below the shoulders, all beneath a pill-boxesque hat, long coat that was far too heavy for the warm climate (_Perhaps the Ark's air conditioner ran extra-high to keep the plant-soaked Knives' cool_, Wolfwood mused), make-up just right, firmly-set, tiny lips, and eyes that said in no uncertain terms that your existence really had no relevance. If he weren't such a cold-hearted bastard, Elendira would have made a beautiful woman; hell, even Meryl had said he made a better girl than she when she first saw him.

"It's been so long and that's all you have to say to an old co-worker," Wolfwood slurred sarcastically. "That's what bugs me about people today: no manners, no interpersonal relations. It's all so sad…"

Wolfwood's admonishing ramble was cut short by a firm nudge from Elendira's case.

"You had your job and I had mine," the other man replied, his voice professional, yet tinged with an air of dry cynicism. "I actually did mine correctly, and I'm still attempting to do so; unfortunately I have to deal with the drunken likes of you and that's setting me back a bit."

"Hey, I did my job perfectly," he responded matter-of-factly. "I made sure Vash got to Knives alive and safe. It wasn't my fault the pansy-assed bastard got beaten down."

Instead of getting mad, Elendira laughed. A particularly chilly sound, and one that gave Wolfwood the creeps. 

"I had thought you held some affection for that addle-brained, spiky-headed twit, but I see how it is, Chapel. You saw Master Knives' Ark was sinking so you jumped ship and headed to the stronger one like the self-preserving rat that you are."

This comment actually struck a nerve and, probably due to the lessening of his inhibitions by the liquor, Wolfwood couldn't bite his tongue fast enough. Normally, he didn't really care what others thought, but what Elendira said made him look no better than the transvestite or Legato. Like hell, he'd be drug down to their level; regardless of how low he already was, Wolfwood would always surpass those two. He slammed his hands down, making to propel himself across the table but stopped when he heard the mechanism catch in Elendira's case. The thought of one of the "Crimsonnail's" huge spikes hurling out of his suitcase at impressive speeds, efficiently impaling his 'nads in a split second, made Wolfwood pause.

"Now, you wouldn't want to die a slow and painful death, bleeding out from a most embarrassing location, would you? We will find him without your help, but this can go much faster if you cooperate."

Elendira glanced down, his eye catching on a couple pieces of paper tucked within Wolfwood's jacket pocket. With one hand remaining on the case, Elendira reached in and plucked them out, disdaining the fact he had to get that close to the rarely washed suit. He laid the picture upon the table, examining them a moment before a predatory grin crossed his face. 

"What a lovely family you two have amassed while away."

"Promise you won't touch the women and the boy," Wolfwood growled while giving in, shifting back into his seat slowly.

"You really are in no position to ask for favors, Chapel," he replied, tucking the picture away in his own coat.

"If you touch them I _will_ find you and I _will_ kill you. That is, if Vash doesn't beat me to it."

"Fine," Elendira sighed, "whatever. No harm will come to the darling little ones."

Wolfwood sighed and thought for a moment, the internal debate that raged inside blatantly played out upon his face; at last he signaled for the other man to move in closer. Elendira leaned forward to meet him over the table. Closer and closer Wolfwood leaned until they were almost nose to nose. He opened his mouth, but instead of a whispered answer to Elendira's original question, a really nice, fat glob of phlegm was spat out on to his pretty little face; it was a really sticky one, nice and thick from the hours of whiskey downing.

Every gun in the room was cocked at the same time, deafening in the sudden silence. Slowly, trying to play it cool, Wolfwood turned to see that not only was every gun in the room cocked, they were all pointed at his head. 

__

He had to be there somewhere, the freak…

Turning a little bit more, Wolfwood found Legato, snug in his metal casket with the scythe-like arm propping him up, in the doorway. Knives sure did a number on the monster when Legato shouted madly for Vash's death right before the Fifth Moon incident; the plant had crushed the madman easily beneath his hand.

With what he hoped to be a smug grin, the priest turned back and poured another drink, emptying the last of the bottle. Not a word was spoken for a full five minutes, Wolfwood willing to die to keep the others from these two and Elendira not so willing to kill him before he got the information he needed. Changing his tactics, Elendira gave a glance and a nod to Legato and the guns shifted to point at anyone but the three former colleagues. 

Whimpers and pleas began to filter through the shock, grown men begging to whatever god in the heavens dared to listen to spare their lives. Not a soul wanted to die in this place, least of all Wolfwood, but he could let it happen it the need arose; no other man in the room had such a purpose. No other man had any amount of beauty in their life that made death worthwhile. Wolfwood knew this as a fact without knowing and a change came over his demeanor as he tensed, listening to their confusion, their desperate need. 

He scowled, his palms slick upon the tabletop, his mind shuddering to a halt. The entire saloon was not his to gamble away for the lives of a handful, no matter how much more they meant to Wolfwood than this room of strangers. This turn of events should have been noticeable far off on the horizon of the confrontation, a tiny yet recognizable speck noticed early on and watched for as it drew ever closer. 

__

Why couldn't they have come in a couple hours before when I had just started the bottle?

"An answer as belligerent as that usually gets a person killed," Elendira drawled pretentiously. "I know you don't want to go limping home to your family, a significant part of your anatomy missing like a sad little character in a disaster porno film, and have to explain to them why all these men died so your precious little life could continue. The other one, Vash, he wouldn't like that very much. You would be in the dog house for sure; that is, until I came and destroyed it as well as the family."

"Who says we haven't parted ways for good," Wolfwood asked in reply, trying to stall for time. No neurons could fire fast enough in the alcohol-induced soup that was his brain at that moment; that meant no escape plan could be formulated.

"That would only happen when you are dead, if I'm not mistaken. You were far too sentimental a person for this job Chapel and I saw it from the beginning. Master Knives may have ignored the warning signs but I could tell from the start you were the wrong man for the assignment."

"Questioning your almighty god? Oh how he would smite you if he heard such words," Wolfwood said, breaking into a grin, "if he could hobble fast enough to catch up with you."

"He doesn't care a whit about a human's opinion, unless it contains thoughts centered around killing him or his brother."

Silence in response; Wolfwood noticed that Legato had lurched forward, somehow maneuvering through the crowd. A chill passed over the priest; Legato was a crazy little shit when they last faced off, Wolfwood attempting to send the monster back to whatever maker deemed it necessary to be spawned, but he looked completely around the bend now. Not even a hint of humanity peeked out from those half-lidded, golden eyes. 

"All this talk bores me," Legato drawled in a voice that could probably kills puppies if its own so chose, it was that soaked in sadistic mirth, "may I kill them all now?"

"You really want to end the sniveling so soon? I thought you would revel in it," Elendira replied, bored and sarcastic as ever. The quadriplegic didn't seem to notice. 

"Oh, it is quite lovely, isn't it? Still, we have what we need to free Master and I would hate to let this opportunity slip from my hands. I can only imagine the wonderful sounds their skulls will make when I force them to pop each other's brittle little skulls like the odious pimples they are…"

Wolfwood and Elendira just stared in mixed queasiness/horror/what-the-fuckness. Neither man could dredge up any sort of response from either of their stalled brains for a few moments.

"I should have sat there and made sure he was dead. Who knew he would be so tenacious. I could have sworn I emptied a whole round in to him; the bastard's face even went splat on the floor for Christ's sake," Wolfwood at last muttered to himself when he pried his jaw off the table. Elendira managed to regain his composure, but he never took his eye off of Legato for the rest of the night. 

"Legato, no squishing, please," said Elendira. "Chapel, I'm not a man to ask for much, but obviously these men have little time left, that amount decreasing with every second _he_ remains here. I extend an offer to finish this discussion on the ship; decline, then we will unfortunately see whether or not these men have pus for brains."

"Alright," Wolfwood sighed, shuddering at the unwanted mental image, "I'll give you no more trouble, just leave everyone else out of it. Don't know how helpful I'll be, seeing as I don't know much that I'd be willing to share with you, but if it keeps death down to a minimum…"

The guns dropped and confused, frightened men scattered, scrambling for any available way out. The three left behind made a much more leisurely-paced exit, almost strolling around the over-turned tables and chairs, avoiding puddles of spilt booze and broken bottles. One was maddeningly (and quite mad) smug with success, the second all business, and the third trying to come up with a way to keep the Gardeners and Vash safe and alive.

All in all, Wolfwood decided this was one of the crappiest nights of his life.

No more booze, ever.


	26. Trapped Inside Himself

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Twenty-Six

Trapped Inside Himself

"Where is he?"

Wolfwood awoke to the less than melodious sounds of Elendira's voice; dammit, Legato must have forced him into unconsciousness as soon his foot stepped out of the saloon door. Naturally the priest refused to answer the question and instead took in his surroundings, assessing the situation.

Within a minute he figured out he was basically screwed.

The room was tiny, maybe five paces by five paces. He couldn't lay out completely although it didn't matter too much; his wrists had been bound tightly behind him and then trussed tightly to the bonds around his ankles, forcing his back to remain ramrod straight. Only could he kneel or lay on his side but not much more than that. White walls seamlessly melded into one and another, as well with the floor and ceiling. Metal maybe, cool to the touch, and spotless. The perfect room to make a person go insane _real _quick.

Shivering, Wolfwood realized he had been stripped of his own clothes, only a loose smock of white covering his body. Absently the thought of what he would do if he had to use the restroom flitted across his mind as he looked for any source of entrance or exit. None were obvious; although they had to exist, they were well hidden. He couldn't even see where the speaker was or if any cameras were watching him, the walls growing brighter the longer he stared at them. 

"Where is he?"

Wolfwood remained silent, kneeling there with his head bowed in thought. It snapped up suddenly as pain ripped through his body, choking out a pitiful, almost animalistic scream. His back arched painfully, wrenching beyond its normal limit. Tears poured out from between tightly closed eyelids. It felt like someone had replaced his blood with gasoline and then chucked a match down his throat. 

__

That's not possible, it's not fucking possible, he tried to think, tried to fight back the pain, but it overtook him and all senses shut down. Not sight, not smell, no touch; Wolfwood couldn't even hear himself scream anymore.

As quickly as the pain started, it was over. No burns marred his skin, not a scratch on him.

__

Legato… his mind gasped. It was all Wolfwood could do to force air in and then laboriously back out of his lungs. Sweat dripped from him, mingling with tears upon his face. Blood pounded in his ears and he almost couldn't hear Elendira ask the question again.

"Where is he?"

Again Wolfwood refused to answer. There really was no other option for him, he couldn't let them know where Knives was hiding, along with Vash, Edy, and Isaiah. Their safety, the safety of every human upon Gunsmoke, everyone hung their hope for survival on this single nail, the fact that Knives was incapacitated; of course most were blissfully aware of this fact, but that changed its validity not at all. Wolfwood knew he had to stand the pain or at least not let it convince him he needed to talk. This pain was all in his mind but no matter how sure he was of that fact, when it started again all logic flew from his head and all he could do was scream.

* * * * *

The ships came.

Bright, shining, metal beacons of a new age, virtually silent in their decent, ominous and yet beautiful in every way. They touched down in the middle of the wasteland, and almost like in some microcosmic joke, crushed the cave that once shielded a murderous plant from the elements as he lay wounded and delirious. The ships were here but no one in Vash's tiny universe knew if, when they left, they would remain intact. The feeling of uneasiness that had been slowly smoldering within both Vash and Edy had been fanned into a searing flame by the winds of the landing ships. Things had grown tense around the Gardener household as all the people around them and all across Gunsmoke began preparing for the journey.

Words announcing the ships' arrival flew frantically across the satellite, causing celebration; it would have been followed by mayhem if the officers from the ships had not commandeered all forms of communication and set forth the orders for evacuation. Their own people went out into the planet to ensure everything went smoothly, lacking in any form of chaos. Everything had to be just so for this to work. 

Everyone had to wrap up their business and their lives, pack only what personal items would fit in a bag no bigger than their exacting size and weight specifications, and then gather at the camp set up at the outskirts of the landing area. Food and sanitary items would only be necessary for the journey to the camp; all other matters such as necessary needs would be taken care of in the camp, on the ship, and if everyone followed orders and everything went correctly, on Earth as well.

So people slowly but surely did as they were told and formed a mass Exodus from every walk of life any of them ever knew, willing to throw it all away for a chance to leave this dirty, burning Hell of a planet, Gunsmoke.

The waiting game began.

* * * * * 

__

…What was that? It's back, it's back…

Consciousness return to him, only to find that he was still bound, still in that horrible little room. The cold, white, metal floor bit into his knees through the long smock but he felt nothing of the floor's ice in his numb feet; he chided himself for falling asleep (or more likely unconscious) on his knees again. 

Not caring if it would hurt, only making sure not to smack his head on the floor, he tipped himself over onto his side to take the weight off of his bloodless limbs. White walls stared at him and without turning his head to look, he knew a white ceiling loomed overhead, and the white floor below, all perfectly devoid of color, except for the messes they let him make. Those were cleaned up soon enough, and no color remained in the room for very long. The humiliating answer came to him, not long after he found himself in the room, about what would happen if he needed to go to the bathroom. 

__

Stupid voice, I was having a good dream. The same one again, about the house far away from here and those people… I can't remember what they look like now, the dream's gone because of that stupid voice... _Still, it was warm and happy there…_

He had no sense of time or space, sleep never was allowed for him in any regular interval, and the food, what little there had been, had virtually turned his bowels to water. Everything had been planned just right to make anyone go mad. He wasn't crazy yet, he didn't think, but who could tell? Maybe he wasn't. What ever color he could find, what ever noise he could make just to hear a human voice, even his own, that was what kept him from slipping away and giving up the precious information in his head.

"Where is he?"

The same question, as always. The only thing the voice ever said to him, the only thing anyone ever said to him. Again he didn't speak, never talking to it. Pain, screaming, and then the question was posed again. The pattern of torture stood as the only thing that held any sort of routine in his life.

"Where is he?"

Blood flecked the floor as he coughed, shaking and feeling the painful bite of the restraints that dug in his flesh with every struggle. This time was worse than before, causing him to bite his tongue.

__

Concentrate on the red, concentrate on the color, it was new, concentrate…

"Look at that," he murmured to himself, "bleeding, blood, bleeding like a stuck pig. I bit my tongue, bit it good, shit it hurts like a Thomas-fucker. Hurts bad, I need a cigarette, got a light? To much light in here, too bright…"

On he rambled, giving no response to the voice. There was no way he could answer that question, though, not anymore. The problem was, he didn't know who he was himself, let alone the "he" the voice kept referring to. 

Some comfort came from this fact; he still could remember that if he told, he would send people he loved to their death. Who they were, he couldn't recall exactly. Vague colors really, not shapes anymore. Faces fading from a dream with the morning light. 

He just knew it was better this way, that he forgot everything. No memories to remind him of what he was missing, locked up in this little room. No names, no faces, no places to tell him exactly what no longer belonged to him. Better to forget everything and die in this horrible, little, white room.

* * * * *

Outside of the room and outside of the man's hearing, two other men conversed. The one who owned the voice (the meticulous, calm voice that knew no other phrases than one), turned to the other, a man in a metal casket responsible for the pain (that really was only in the head of the poor man, but hurt like truth due to the amazing capabilities of the human brain and nervous system). Elendira's pretty face did not look pleased as he stared disdainfully at Legato, the freak unable to tear his eyes away from the monitor that displayed their captive, the former Nicholas D. Wolfwood. 

"We've gone too far; there's nothing left in him. He's just a pitiful shell," he sighed, frustrated. A delicate finger and thumb pinched the slender bridge of his nose in attempts to ward off complete frustration.

"His walls are almost down now," the other murmured to himself, his golden eyes in slits as he stared at the screen. "No need for talking soon, I can get in all by myself."

"You couldn't before," Elendira asked dryly, squinching his eyes shut, pinching still as if his life depended upon it, and refusing to look at Legato. If this little freak could have just pulled the information out by the roots, then why hadn't he done so two weeks ago?

"Chapel wouldn't let me. No way to get past then, but there are cracks now. All I need is another day…"

"We don't have another day," responded Elendira as he counted to ten in his head. "The ships are here. Granted we have some time yet, but I'm sick of you and your twisted little games. What I wouldn't give to be rid of your company for good… I'll need to bath for a year after all this is over."

The transvestite, by refusing to look up, missed Legato's frightfully disgusting grin.

"Then I'll have what we need within the hour," he said, ignoring the other man's disparaging remarks, or not hearing them at all perhaps. Who ever really knew with the blue-haired freak?


	27. Bridge

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Tying Up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter Twenty-Seven  
  
Bridge  
  
Bored, bored, and bored once more. Isaiah sat out back, staring across the wasteland that made up their backyard and sighing from time to time. The ships had been here for a couple of weeks and yet they were no where nearer to leaving for the camps.   
  
Edy said it was because the other three doctors in February left and she needed to stick around just in case any stragglers needed her help. Vash said it was because the Herrings were still there to feed those that could no longer get food from the closed stores and he needed to help as much as possible. Knives didn't say much, except to Edy, who was amazingly enough was once again the only one who could stand him for long.   
  
It had been weeks before he apologized and Edy, pitying him once again, accepted the half-assed and shifty expression of regret. Isaiah could only roll his eyes and Vash could only fume in wonder; her willing mercy would get her in trouble on of these days, especially when Knives was involved.  
  
Despite all the reasons and excuses, Isaiah knew it had to be because Knives was still breathing and burrowing his thorny self into everyone's side. With him around and kicking, even handicapped, the ships and the humans were in danger. Isaiah began to resent the other plant, wondering why if he hated humans so much, Knives couldn't just let them all leave and have Gunsmoke to himself. It wasn't like they would fly to yet another planet and destroy its ecosystem; they would all be returning back to Earth and no where else.  
  
A sand storm near the horizon distracted Isaiah from his thoughts. It seemed to attack the land east of where he had heard the ships were resting, taking few prisoners as it cut its path across the land. Peering through the midday haze and the clouds of dirt and grit whipping madly in the winds a ways off, the boy could vaguely make out a form in the sky. Not much more than an obscured smudge but still more interesting to look at than nothing, so Isaiah stared.   
  
The wind had begun to pick up there, too, warning that the storm had plans to stop by February as well. His eyes began to water and his bangs, growing longer by the week since he refused to let Edy cut it, snapped at his cheeks. A low keen sounded as the storm moaned through crevices and dales, growing closer. The shape in the sky grew close too, increasing in size with each passing moment.   
  
"C-cent for your thoughts, honey," Edy asked from behind him, causing the boy to jump. Absorbed in his storm watching, Isaiah hadn't even heard his sister come up behind him. He turned to glare at her, annoyed that not had he been disturbed but that she scared him too.  
  
"Nothing," he muttered, keeping the unspoken vow of silence; no one talked about Knives, no one dealt with the fact that they couldn't leave until the plant either agreed to live in harmony with humans on Earth (which seemed unlikely) or until some better plan showed its face (which seemed even more unlikely).   
  
"It isn't nothing, but I'll let it slide this time," she replied, her voice tired and struggling.   
  
Although Edy had kept her promise to Vash and had stopped using her powers completely for a long time now, the hard work she had to endure all morning had wiped her out completely; fatigue had also awakened difficulties in speech, her words slurred and slowed. Isaiah cringed at this, the dark anger-cloud over his heart growing even more.   
  
"I never thought those old people would ever be done! Each had a list of complaints a mile long and thought up new ones while I worked," Edy whined with some difficulty. The senior citizens' home had been evacuated that morning but before they made the journey the staff wanted to make sure no one would keel over along the way, or if they did it wouldn't be the fault of the attendants.  
  
Sitting down with an "oomph," Edy threw her arm around Isaiah. He pulled away, not in the mood to humor his sister. Still growing like a weed, though not nearly as fast as he had in the first year, Isaiah felt he was too old for Edy's smothery-mothery ways. Rejection made Edy sigh as she struggled to not take it personally. Together, silent once more, they watched the growing blob.  
  
It had now taken on a distinct form, obviously metallic from the way it shimmered in the occasional rays of light that broke through the dust. It seemed to be an airship of sorts riding the front of the storm, headed directly for them. Worry grew inside of Edy, nibbling at her until she turned to Isaiah and spoke at last.  
  
"Can you run and get Father's gun for me sweetie? Then I want you to stay inside no matter what, all right," she asked of Isaiah. For once he readily complied seeing the seriousness filling her eyes and lining her words.   
  
A minute or two after her brother disappeared inside, Edy witnessed the biggest airship she had ever seen in person touch down only a hundred or so yards away from the house. The rush of the wind and the noise of its engines ripped past her, forcing her arms to cover her face and her ear drums to quiver in fear. This did not bode well.  
  
In a moment everything stopped completely and then Edy felt the vibration of steps on the porch behind her, her hearing still unable to pick up the sound of the back door slamming shut. Turning, almost unseeing, Edy took the gun from Isaiah's trembling hands and checked to see if it was loaded and ready. It was.  
  
"Back inside now, baby, back inside," she whispered, barely able to hear her own voice in her throat. Isaiah swallowed a replied and inched backwards into the house. He closed the screen door but stayed there right behind it, watching through the wire mesh.  
  
Dropping down from the ship's belly was a ramp; a figure carrying a huge suitcase slowly, leisurely walked down its length and strode forward toward the house. Edy had a nice chunk of time to push herself into a standing position, find her footing and resolve, make haste away from the house, and ponder the gender of the individual she walked out to meet.   
  
Too pretty to be a man, a woman's cut in clothing, but awfully tall and broad; was that an Adam's apple?  
  
When the visitor spoke, now standing several arms length away, Edy's doubts were expelled; definitely a man.  
  
"Hmph, how quaint," Elendira muttered. Reaching into his coat he pulled out a slip of paper, glancing at it then at the woman before him. Whether or not Chapel's information had been reliable no longer stood as a fact in question. She was one of the ones in the picture, at Vash's side and looking embarrassed from the weight of his arm around her shoulder. Her hair had grown quite a bit since the picture had been taken, Elendira noted without real emotion or purpose. Tucking it back away, he spoke again.  
  
"You must be the little woman I've heard so much about. I'm sure you'll probably want to remain silent and hold to some silly notion of loyalty and love, but let me get straight to the point before I begin retching from the sentimentality. You have Master Knives in your custody and we would like him back, thank you."  
  
"We do have knives here, spoons and forks too," said Edy in words sugary sweet and simperingly stupid, "but I can't just give you my good silverware, although we could probably strike a deal seeing as we won't have need for it all very much longer."  
  
A disturbing noise came from the suitcase as a mechanism was triggered. In a flash it seemed to go from average box to lug clothes around in to a gigantic crossbow-like contraption. Judging from the girth of the barrel, Edy didn't care to see the size of the bolts. With it pointed directly at her she also didn't want to be cute any more.  
  
"You're Elendira the Crimson Nail, aren't you? Vash and Nicholas told me about you and Legato Bluesummers; you two are the last of Knives' followers."  
  
"They failed to mention Zazie, but he's no longer a major player," he murmured almost to himself. "He's probably just happy the humans are heading out and leaving his precious planet alone."  
  
Edy ignored whatever Elendira said, not really caring; whoever this Zazie character was, he wasn't the one standing there with a huge weapon cocked right at her. She felt the weight of the pistol snug against the small of her back, tucked into the waist of her pants. No chance that little pee-shooter would do sufficient enough damage in the face of the Suitcase from Hell.  
  
"Knives is out right now, you'll just have to call back later," Edy answered, the suicide switch firmly in the "on" position. She didn't want to be cute, but she also didn't want to hand the plant over to these two, the ones that would make sure Knives succeeded in his plans. Elendira fired.  
  
"Edy!!!" Isaiah yelled, rushing from the house.   
  
Edy stood there, the giant spike inches from her toes. Staring down she realized that she hadn't put her shoes on yet; a nervous giggle struggled to find its way out but she shoved it back down. Never taking her eyes off of Elendira, Edy called over her shoulder to Isaiah.  
  
"It's all right Isaiah, nothing to worry about," she said, unable to keep the quiver out of her struggling voice. The rest was directed mostly at Elendira, but the boy got the drift. "I'm being a terrible hostess. Baby, run down to the Prancing Thomas and get us some food for our guest; the pantry's virtually bare. We can have a bite to eat and wait until Knives returns, okay?"  
  
"Fine," Elendira replied with a sigh, knowing this woman was lying, "whatever you wish. Legato, can you sense him?"  
  
Edy stared over the fashionably-dressed man's shoulder at the hulking figure that approached, hobbling on its claw-like arm. A monster from a story, a demon from hell, countless descriptions for that thing that had only maybe been a man once ran through her head. As it came closer she realized the man had been snugly tucked into a metal tube of sorts, vicious and shining in the harsh, real light.  
  
"Yes, Master is here," he whispered in awe, his sight riveted by the house or more likely what was in it, "but brother Vash is not." Legato adverted his eyes to Edy and stared for a moment before his cruel mouth dropped open, releasing a cruel laugh.  
  
"Stop it!!!" Edy shouted, a hand flying to her head and the other yanking the pistol from behind her; it felt like something had wedged itself in her brain and had begun to rip it to shreds. The loud report of six bullets fired one after the other barely registered to her senses and did nothing to cease the maniac's chortling. When at last the sensation faded Edy pried open her eyes, staring through the sweat and tears. Not a single bullet met either mark.  
  
"Chapel failed to tell us something," Legato hissed with glee, "I didn't think he could keep any more from us but it's true."  
  
"What are you talking about," Elendira asked, impatientence and disbelief tumbling out with his words.   
  
"Such pretty black hair; pretty, pretty..." Legato murmured between laughs, repeating himself without clarification.   
  
"Legato, I've no patience for your ridiculous prattling. Illuminate me or..." Elendira failed to finish his sentence with words, making up for it in the swift action that placed the grinning monster at the mercy of his case.  
  
"She's a plant, the little boy we let go too. Written all over her mind, as easy to smell as fear, although she's hiding something from me."  
  
"Shit," Elendira spat, whirling back around to face the newly discovered advanced being. The only time he ever lost his cool was when they lost their cool. "Detain her, I'll go get what we came for. We're done here!"  
  
With that he was gone, leaving a newly motionless Edy to the care of Legato. Edy couldn't move or speak, and that terrible prodding, poking, ripping feeling returned. There was nothing she could do to stop it.  
  
Oh God, she thought as she suddenly slipped back behind herself, seeing her own figure before and below her. A dark light, cold and painful to the touch, began to curl around her visible self, its affects felt on her real self as well.  
  
No...  
  
It tugged, pulled, pinched, nudged, and tried to find a way in. It hurt, like ice on bare flesh. Attempts to swing her arms, to strike out and scare it away, were futile.   
  
No...  
  
The tugging became more insistent, like the light had plans to tear her into little pieces. It hurt so bad, but not like physical pain, not at all. Her very consciousness was in the process of being ripped apart.  
  
No...  
  
"Legato, no!" 


	28. Twist and Shout

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Myshkin: Much love to all my readers; over 75 reviews, it blows my mind! You guys are the greatest. *sniffles a little and blows nose on comically over-sized hankie* And to Jillian, I was so excited for you I had to either scream or create, and I chose this quieter option. Hope it makes your happy day even happier. I prostate you two so much!  
  
Tying Up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter Twenty-Eight  
  
Twist and Shout  
  
"Vash, are you still here?"  
  
Looking up from the formerly dirty table top and his handsome reflection upon it, Vash found himself face to face with Luc Herring, as red and kindly-looking as the first time he met the man. Sadness had crept into his eyes like a few specks of dust, though, and Vash knew it was due to the closing of the Prancing Thomas, the man's true love, second only to his wife as receiver of his affections.   
  
Herring had become a true life saver when he allowed both Vash and Wolfwood to work there, and never asked questions when Vash had to miss. All the extra, free take-home meals endeared the man to Vash as well; the man made an incredible beignet, the classiest doughnut Vash ever ate.  
  
"Yeah, just making sure everything's left spic and span."  
  
"Nothing to worry about, really," Herring commented with a sad chuckle. "We'll be heading out tomorrow morning, Maria and me. No one will come here tomorrow or ever again for that matter."  
  
"Maybe you'll start another Prancing Thomas on Earth," Vash suggested with a grin.  
  
"Who knows what it'll be like on Earth," sighed the restaurateur. "No one seems to be saying much and gossip's coming up dry about life back there."  
  
"You never know, really. You just never know."  
  
The sound of the front door opening and feet on the tile caused both men to turn from their conversation.  
  
"Vash!"   
  
"Insurance Girls! You're three days early," Vash exclaimed, dropping his rag and rushing to pull his friends into a tight embrace. Meryl choked slightly but Milly only returned the hug in full Milly-fashion. Finally releasing the girls, Vash gave them a chance to talk. Brushing herself off, Meryl spoke first.   
  
"Business dried up so fast there was no need for us," the shorter woman explained. "We got off an extra two weeks ahead of time, decided to get our affairs in order and headed out for February."  
  
"You wouldn't believe the trouble we had getting here," Milly cut in with exuberance. "None of the steamers or buses are running anywhere except to and from the ships! It was impossible to find a rental place with anyone still working there, so Meryl and I walked into one place, found the keys to the nicest jeep, and borrowed it!"  
  
"Milly!"  
  
"What, we're going to return it, aren't we?"  
  
"Of course not, that's why I said not to talk about it," Meryl sighed in frustration. "The only place we're headed is the camp; we can't afford to drive all the way back to return the jeep."  
  
"But Meryl, that's wrong! We stole a jeep! We could lose our jobs over this or get arrested!"  
  
"I don't think you have to worry much about that," Vash cut in, laughing. "If the Ship Officers haven't stopped you yet, I doubt they ever will."  
  
This opinion quieted the bigger girl a bit, but she still looked down, upset about committing such an offense. Herring tried to cheer her up by taking her back to the kitchen and fixing her up a nice, big meal; starving, the poor girl forgot about her new criminal status as she tucked into the delicious food. Alone, Meryl's tone turned even more serious than normal.  
  
"Vash, those ships didn't come quick enough," Meryl murmured. "We passed through a few cities that Knives had visited before you took him down... It was terrible."  
  
"What..."  
  
"The towns, the one without plants, they were like mass graves, open to the world. Corpses rotting in the streets, laying where they had fallen. Milly's probably already blocked it from her memory, poor girl. She wanted to bury them all, but there were so many... Too many..."  
  
Vash hugged Meryl tightly as she began to cry, the stress finally breaking her resolve. Vash cried too, for her and for the victims of his brother's cruelty. When they faced off he knew he hadn't stopped his brother in time; once the plants were taken from their bulbs, they couldn't be returned.   
  
After fighting Knives, taking him down, the connection between the plants and Knives was rent asunder and they perished. Vash had no clue what to do or how to make it right; he didn't even fully understand how his brother could do what he was doing. In the midst of trying to do something right, he had done the wrong thing again, and so many people had died once more because of Vash the Stampede.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Legato, no!"  
  
The voice cut through the wind, slicing through the connection between woman and psycho. Gasping, dropping to her knees, Edy cried out through the tears running down her face. Oh god, it hurt so much, why did it hurt so much?!  
  
"If you hadn't fought it," a snide, slimy voice whispered in her mind, "there would have been no pain at all."  
  
Knives hobbled out to where Edy knelt, trembling, sounding much like she did all those months ago in the cave when she received her first wounds from Knives. Dropping his crutches and his own weight, he cradled her head against his chest, seething in anger. A bored-looking Elendira followed closely behind without comment.  
  
"Master, your legs..." Legato murmured in alarm, noticing his master's imperfection for the first time.  
  
"You've lost your dog-like obedience since I left, Legato," Knives said, his voice struggling to stay in check. "Never did I say you could touch her and I most certainly did not ask for you to hurt her."  
  
"Master, I'm sorry, I..."  
  
"If there wasn't a need for you still, I would destroy you. Elendira, Legato, go find Isaiah and bring him back. He can not reach Vash; Vash can not know that we are leaving without him."  
  
"But Master, he's a little boy on foot, he knows the city and where he is headed..."   
  
"Then reach out, touch his mind, and stop him, you pitiful dog," snapped Knives, interrupting the underling's sniveling. "Don't tell me your skills have gone that soft in such short of a time. And whatever you do, do not hurt him. I really want to destroy you right now, but it's unfortunately it's not your time. If you stay around any longer, it may just be."  
  
With that Legato hobbled off around the house, fighting the storm that had arrived in the middle of the confrontation, heading towards the town. Elendira strolled after him, lazily swinging his case and ignoring the buffeting winds. Within moments they were gone.  
  
"Edy, shhh, Edy, it will be all right," Knives murmured, a flash of tenderness sneaking out for a second. He couldn't help it; no matter how hard he tried, Knives wanted to cry seeing Edy so abused and scared. Dammit, Vash, I really loathe you, he thought. You and your ridiculous empathy.   
  
Coming back to herself, Edy pushed away from Knives. Keeping her eyes downcast, she wiped her face upon her sleeves and tried to stand. The fatigue of the day combined with the crash following the adrenaline rush and the sand storm whipping about her got the best of her and Edy stumbled a couple of times before remaining upright. She didn't help Knives gather his crutches or himself up from the ground.  
  
"Edy..."  
  
"I can't let you get on that ship," she said, cutting him off as her eyes found his. His were still liquid with new-found sympathy but hers were frozen over completely.   
  
"Edy, I doubt you're in any condition to fight me," Knives replied, almost cool once more.  
  
"Then I'll die trying."  
  
"Senseless waste. Edy, I want you to come with me."  
  
"No."  
  
"Edy..."  
  
Before he could finish what he was going to say, Edy swung, her fist connecting with his cheek. It was off-balanced and sluggish, but the impact still made his head snap to the side with surprise. Her other fist leapt up from her side but she wasn't fast enough. Knives' blade countered it, knocking it off course and causing Edy to wince in pain; he failed to use the flat of the blade and had sliced her across the top of her wrist. Bleeding but not ready to let up, she tried to trip him up, kick his crutches out from beneath him. This time Knives had more time to react and swept her other leg out from under her without cutting her, causing her to fall to the ground on her rear.   
  
Edy had known she hadn't the strength or energy left to fight Knives seriously but she also knew she had to try. Try she did, and she failed miserably.   
  
"I'm still not getting on that ship, Knives. I won't be party to this genocide."  
  
"Then say good bye to Isaiah, because he will be going with us," he answered.   
  
Elendira and Legato had returned with Isaiah before them, unable to move or speak in the grips of Legato's control, the horror of the situation flashing in his tear-filled eyes. Edy could never, ever abandon Isaiah, her little brother, her baby boy. Bad guys always knew where to grab and twist to get what they wanted, she thought darkly to herself. Cradling her bloody arm in the other, Edy managed to stand once more.  
  
"All right Knives, I'll go." 


	29. Dark Night

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!  
  
Tying Up Loose Ends  
  
Chapter Twenty-Nine  
  
Dark Night  
  
"Honey, I'm home," Vash called out in his most robust, most manly voice. Milly twittered and Meryl just scowled as the three entered the house, fighting against the winds to close the door. The storm had been raging for over an hour, making the commute difficult and time consuming. Darkness had fallen as the suns dipped ever closer to the horizon, the rest of the day's light obscured by the whirling clouds of dust, dirt, and debris.   
  
Worry piqued Vash's senses; no lamps were lit within sight. Edy always kept a light burning for him when she knew he was going to be home later. All joking quickly shoved aside, Vash called out once more.  
  
"Edy? Isaiah? Knives? Anyone here?"  
  
No answer. Well, maybe they were just out back, in the middle of the storm, for some fresh air, you know? The passing hall and kitchen didn't even register in Vash's mind as he hurried to the back door. Peering through the wire mesh revealed nothing, and the fact that the solid, wooden door stood wide open helped to calm him in no way.   
  
Next place to check was upstairs. Passing by the girls who remained unsure of what to do, standing there in the dark foyer, Vash took the stairs two at a time into the darkness.  
  
"Meryl," Milly murmured, moving from her place at her friend's side, "what's that?"  
  
"Milly..."  
  
Something lay in the middle of the hall by the opened closet door, passed over by Vash's long strides and preoccupied mind. Squinting against the darkness, Milly knelt, her hands running over a smooth wooden box and a cloth that lay over it as if it had been thoughtlessly tossed aside. The cloth smelled strongly of gunpowder. Pushing herself back up, Milly's hand pressed down on something cold, cylendrical, and metal laying upon the floor. Plucking it up she felt the weight of a bullet in her hand.  
  
Vash returned wrapped in a loud string of nearly violent curses, his fear having rocketed past panic. Despite their questions, Vash couldn't form the words to tell them that Knives' door had been kicked in and he was no where to be found, along with the others.   
  
Running out into the yard, tailed closely by the girls, Vash stumbled upon something that made him fall to his knees and cry out in earnest.   
  
They were gone, they were gone and there was nothing he could do about it. Knives wouldn't let himself be found this time; this dissapearance, kidnapping Edy and Isaiah, it was proof that Knives had at last broken ties with his brother completely.   
  
Taking what Vash held most dear, his happy life, and irreversably breaking it apart, in doing this Knives struck a blow knowing no physical wound would be left to heal and age into an old scar, no peace eventually made with the inflictor. Vash would never help Knive, only hinder him, and from then on out he wasn't going to give his brother that chance. Somehow Vash knew this, he knew this to be so terribley, horribley true.  
  
As Vash cried and shouted, cursing the heavens for his abismal failure to protect the ones he loved, Milly and Meryl could only stare in horror at the huge nail driven into the dusty soil, placed there with such a force that not even the raging winds could budge it.  
  
* * * * *   
  
He had tried to make it as comfortable as possible for her, but in the end Knives failed. The Ark was never designed for pleasure cruises, and putting a few extra blankets on a cot didn't help. Edy lay there, exhausted, staring at the dingy, metal-gray walls, the toilet, the sink, the mirror, alternating her attention from boring object to boring object. It wasn't much more than a prison cell, and appropriately so. Knives had locked her in, for her protection he said.  
  
Protection, ha! He was the one that needed protecting as soon as she rested up. He not only basically kidnapped her and Isaiah, but he separated them as well. Lord only knows where Isaiah had been stowed away, tucked somewhere within the massive ship.   
  
That pompous bastard had the audacity to use her little brother as collateral not once, not twice, but three times! First to bargin with her in the cave, second to get her on the ship and then third to keep her there peacfully. Knives didn't so much as come out and say it, but she knew that was why Isaiah had been taken from her. Insurance in case she did try something.   
  
She pounded her fist into the cot in fury, angry that things had ended up this way. Why did she ever show that high-and-mighty asswipe any mercy? Always he repaid her kindness with pain, and now the destruction of humanity on Gunsmoke seemed imminent, all because she didn't have the balls to shoot him dead in that cave. This all could have been avoided with one well-placed bullet to the head.  
  
Still... Edy was glad she didn't kill him, in a way, even if it only meant her conscience stood a bit cleaner and not that she spared a life. Killing was messy business, never good. Never. And that was why she needed to figure out how to get the hell out of there, so no more deaths would occur.   
  
Not tonight, though. Sleep had begun to steal over Edy and she dropped like a stone into a fitful sleep, the low hum of the ship's engines lulling her into unconciousness.  
  
* * * * *  
  
This is so humiliating, Isaiah thought as he stared at the "leash" tied from his wrist to Elendira's. The expression on the man's face told him that the feeling was quite mutual. A pair of metal cuffs linked by a sturdy chain bound the two together; Knives wanted Isaiah under constant surveallance and within close reach, in case Edy tried something and they needed to use the boy to subdue her.   
  
The two never spoke a word.  
  
Elendira thought it was bloody ridiculous and that the Master had suffered a head injury as well, but agreed to it, considering the fact that it was still Master Knives giving the order, even if he was crippled. Still, the look in the plant's eyes, the tone in his voice, Master Knives wasn't right somehow and this time it had nothing to do with the heady intoxication he recieved from gorging on plants.  
  
Making his rounds, Elendira climbed down into the bowls of the ship. Isaiah followed along, helpless to do otherwise but curious as well. He had never been around a mad villian's secret lair before but so far the Ark was living up to all the fantastical stories he had read. About fifteen minutes of descending, weaving, turning, and twisting they at last arrived at Elendira's planned destination.  
  
Sliding open with a hiss, the opening door revealed a small room with a bank of three screens and some audio devices; Isaiah assumed they were audio from the microphone rigged up to the dials and knobs, one of which was labeled "Volume." His interest in the electronics faded fast when he saw who acted as the focus of the cameras; across the three screens were different views of the same man, the one who had left what seemed like ages ago, without a single word, abandoning them all but especially him.  
  
Anger and resentment boiled up inside of Isaiah when he saw Wolfwood's face, knowing he was the one who betrayed them, that this was why he had left. This ebbed away, though, when he at last saw what he was looking at. There before Isaiah the screens projected the image of a broken man, trussed up in a tiny room, gaunt, half-naked, staring out at nothing with dead eyes.  
  
"Wolfwood," Isaiah sobbed as he rushed the screens, trying to fight back tears as he pounded helplessly on the console, crying the man's name over and over again. Elendira watched impassively as Isaiah tried to talk to the man without even bothering with the damn microphone. Pulling out a thin, long box from his coat, Elendira clicked it open to check it's contents and then snapped it shut again.  
  
"Would you like to say good-bye to him," he asked the boy at last when he saw an opening in the boy's crys. Isaiah, breathing heavy and trying to get himself under control turned to Elendira with wide eyes.  
  
"What do you mean," the boy whispered, confused but not as ignorant as he wished he were. He had a pretty good idea what Elendira meant.  
  
"I've been planning to put Chapel down."  
  
Turning to leave the room, Elendira jerked to a stop, not expecting his captive to fail to follow. Shock, outrage, fury, and mostly fear jolted across the poor boy's features like a thunder storm, each emotion a bolt of lightening striking his mind. Elendira sighed and tugged, trying to draw him along, but Isaiah wouldn't budge. At last he met the eyes of the man before him, struggling with the tears welling across his lower lids, and Isaiah spoke.  
  
"It's just like taking the trash out to you, isn't it," he asked, his voice squeaking and shaking with emotion. "Human... human life... it's nothing to you!"  
  
"Intelligent boy."  
  
"You can't just kill him!"  
  
"You have a logical reason? I've gotten all the information I need from Chapel and it's unlikely anyone could find what resembles a human life left in that shell."  
  
"He's... I... you just can't do that... please..."   
  
All sense and logic had left Isaiah and he was crying freely, unable to articulate what he felt and thought. He hated Wolfwood for leaving, but he knew in his heart the man hadn't left for this. Oh God, what did they do to him...  
  
"Oh what the hell," said Elendira with a shrug, "I can't do anything with you strapped to my arm and Master Knives most certainly won't notice or care if you're tagging along once he starts absorbing them again. You two can share a cell, keep each other company (although I don't know what kind of company he'll be) and keep out of my hair."  
  
It wasn't much like him to give into pitiful puppy-dog eyes and quivering lips, but Elendira really didn't care to deal with a brat at his side at all times. He took Isaiah back the way they came and placed him in a cell not unlike the one his sister resided in; unbeknownst to either, they ended up only a few halls away from each other. Within the half hour Elendira returned with Wolfwood now in dull grey pants and a dull grey shirt, his hands still restrained behind his back.   
  
"I'd keep your hands away from his mouth, he hasn't eaten much since he got here," Elendira instructed.  
  
Shoving the man into the room, Elendira slid the heavy metal door closed and locked it up tight, not even thinking twice about it. He would have to make sure to try and remember to bring them food once, maybe twice a day, but that shouldn't be too awefully hard; the other humans on Gunsmoke were occupied with more important things right then and no one would probably take notice of the airship and the missing plants. If they did he'd handle it and if they didn't Elendira would have time to brush up on his solitaire and keeping-a-crazy-genocidal-plant-in-line skills.   
  
Alone with the other man now, Isaiah sat on the cot, watching Wolfwood who watched him back, mumbling in a nearly constant stream under his breath. Isaiah's lips began to quiver as he finally took it all in. Wolfwood's unfocused eyes darted about the room from time to time to take it all in but always returned to Isaiah's face. He seemed to be trying to work something out in his mind, an expression of deep concentration upon a face stripped of all color. The man was thinner, this change most noticable in the face where his jaw cut harder against the air than it used to, as well as where his arms exited the baggy confines of his short-sleeved garment. Greasy hair clung to his head and more stubble than normal covered that sharper chin.  
  
"You," a dry voice cracked, the one word attempting to raise above the whispered stream like a drowning man surfacing desprately for air, "you..."  
  
And that was all Wolfwood could manage before Isaiah stumbled to the ground, wrapping his arms around the bound man's waist and crying into that terrible, deathly-pale, rough grey fabric. Talking too fast for either to understand, Isaiah poured out his anger, his resentment, his fear, and his pain, trying to shove it all into Wolfwood's heart directly from his mouth as he pressed his face into his chest.  
  
Wolfwood fell silent and listened, knowing somehow that this, THIS was important to hear and remember. 


	30. Parasomniac

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Thirty

Parasomniac

The rattle and clang of her cell door sliding shut awoke Edy from a deep slumber, the remnants of a dream still clutching frantically to the inside of her eyelids as she lay there, unsure. Her surroundings were alien, that sound unfamiliar and frightening. Edy didn't particularly want to open her eyes to see who was there, or where there actually was, the knowledge of her location lost in the folds of sleep. A dull, aching throb in her tightly wrapped wrist told her that it probably wasn't a good place. Still, curiosity got the best of her and azure eyes opened to take in what lay, or in this instance stood, before her.

"How in the…" Edy murmured as she sat up a bit too fast, quickly laying down again. Blood had rushed from her head to leave a dazzling, dizzying display of pyrotechnics exploding across her vision. Where she resided and what had happened came rushing back, causing her to realize just how odd it seemed that her visitors stood there in her cell.

Milly virtually leapt across the room and knelt down beside the cot, crying and stroking Edy's hair; the poor woman seemed set to burst from her joy at seeing Edy still alive. Meryl stood by the door, looking a little worse for the wear and smiling a tiny, tired smile. Some explanation spilled from Milly's lips about how they came to be on the ship, but all that Edy could here was one simple phrase among the multitude of words.

"Mr. Vash is here too," the distraught girl exclaimed in the middle of her rambling, the words flipping Edy's hearing off and her frantic thoughts on. Vash was here, Vash came for her, Vash came… She began to weep with joy, the frustration and pain of the day before pouring from between dark lashes and shadowed lids, transforming into hope. It certainly didn't take him long to find them, though; doubt began it's normal gnawing at her belief but she refused to let it over take her. Edy wanted, no she _needed_ to believe that he really was there upon the ship.

As if to quench her fears, the door slid open and closed once more to allow in the man in question. Unable to speak, Edy pushed herself up once more, aided by a splotchy-faced, teared-stained, yet smiling Milly. Vash strode forward quickly to catch Edy as she wobbled towards him, both clinging so tightly to each other neither could hardly breath but didn't care a whit about this fact. 

"Vash, you're here, you're alright," she murmured into his chest as his gentle hands stroked her hair much like her friend had moments before, the action far more soothing now despite Milly's good intentions; no one could replace Vash's gentle touch in Edy's world. "For the love of God, get me out of here now."

"I can't just yet," Vash replied, his voice wrenched tight with apology and regret. This caused Edy to look up at last to see Vash's tired face, a bandage wrapped snuggly about his head; she realized that the shirt beneath her palms smelled of several days out in the elements, and looked it as well. She must have been out longer than she thought, their trial in finding her less simple than first believed. She wanted to ask how long she had been gone, but the first question Edy would form would be why they couldn't leave this instant.

"I'm trying to bargain with Knives, to talk some sense into him one last time. It's not likely he'll give in now, after all this, but I have to try; please understand Edy, I have to try. If you and the girls can just hold on a week, I promise you it will all be over then."

Edy pushed away, nodding her understanding but still cooling in her emotions. How could a girl blame a man for wanting to save his own flesh and blood, especially when true, physical family was so limited for beings such as they. Still, a part of her was jealous and angry. Didn't he care about her? Knives kidnapped her, and Isaiah too! Now Vash just let his brother keep them, and now the girls as well, locked up for absolutely no good reason.

Gently, her hand was enveloped in his real one, his thumb softly stroking the back side.

"I promise, I'll come back for you," he whispered as he leaned in to gently press his lips to corner of her own, just off center and oh so sweetly delicate. Then he was gone.

* * * * *

Neither had spoken for over an hour, Isaiah unable to let go of Wolfwood as the terror of the entire situation stuck at last in his conscious thought. Shock had turned him inside out, confusion and fear making it impossible to do anything. No more tears would come, even if Isaiah had wanted them to; he felt empty now, and so very tired but unable to sleep. Whatever happened to his friend, it destroyed the man. Not a recognizable flicker of who Wolfwood had been showed itself now. Anger mingled with Isaiah's sorrow, all of it directed at the one plant whose existence tore apart so many lives, his own included. Isaiah hated Knives so much; thoughts of revenge, deep red in their intensity, filled his thoughts. Small fists gripped the dull gray material of Wolfwood's garments that much tighter.

He had stopped muttering when the boy had latched on so tightly, but everything he said made no sense. Names, people, places, no matter how much he tried, nothing came to the forefront of his mind. Maybe one of those names was his own. Was it safe now to remember himself? Had the betrayal taken place with or without his aid? _Could _he reclaim his self now if he tried? Did he really want to? He had held on to so little that even the knowledge that he had forgotten himself barely remained.

"Nicholas, what did they do you," Isaiah whimpered at last, almost to himself. Shaking himself from his catatonic stupor, he pushed himself away and then sat upon his rear, trying to look his friend in the eyes; Wolfwood's eyes still wouldn't stay on anything for long, although he seemed to make an concerted effort to return Isaiah's gaze. Sighing, he scooted around to Wolfwood's side, laying a hand lightly upon his shoulder to signal for the man to lean forward.

What was the boy wanting? Nicholas, he called me Nicholas, didn't he? Nicholas… Can't let that slip away, can't let it go…

Isaiah stopped in his inspection of Wolfwood's restraints when the man began to mumble something over and over again. Leaning in closer to hear, Isaiah found that he repeated one word again and again, "Nicholas."

"Yeah, that's you name," said Isaiah, confused. Wolfwood made no sign that he heard the boy, keeping up the pseudo-mantra without hesitation. Isaiah moved back around to look Wolfwood in the face once more. Gently grasping the man by his shoulders, Isaiah tried to illicit a reaction. 

"Your name's Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Don't you remember that? Nicholas D. Wolfwood."

The boy told him something, something he knew he needed to hold onto, but as he heard the words, he forgot them once more, lost into the vacuum of his fractured mind.

* * * * *

The girls were held there for what probably was a week before Vash returned; none of them had retained a watch in the midst of their detainment, so it could have been longer or shorter for all they knew. Much of the time passed slowly, either in silence or steeped in Milly's virtually incessant and inanely cheerful chatter. 

Meryl, on the other hand, hardly spoke after the good-bye Vash gave Edy; she tried not to be childish, but it hurt. It hurt not only because Vash didn't care for her in that way but that he hadn't even said a word about it to the girls as they searched frantically for the Gardeners and Knives. The least he could have done was say, "Dammit, my brother stole my woman, let's go get her back and her little brother too." Of course, hindsight being virtually flawless, Meryl realized now that he had said as much without words but with his actions. Now she had a reason to be mad at herself as well and that just put her in a terrible mood.

Edy herself tried not to stew in her worry, but it was difficult. Food was brought around either twice or three times a day (again, no one really sure without a way to measure the time) but she couldn't keep a single bite down. After spending several post-mealtimes kneeling over the toilet, under the concerned scrutiny of Meryl and the tender back-pats of Milly, Edy nixed the idea of eating much more than she deemed necessary for existence. It hurt, she was hungry all the time, but nothing could be done to change it. 

At long last the door slide open and closed and the girls found themselves starring up at Vash once more. Something seemed different, though…

"Your hair… Vash, what did he do to you?! What did you do to yourself," Edy cried out, throwing herself angrily into his waiting arms. She wanted to hug him and kill him at the same time, seeing the change that had come over Vash, demanding to know the explanation.

Tired eyes tried to smile at Edy, but only his mouth seemed capable of doing that; Vash looked worn, exhausted, defeated. Black replaced almost all the blond upon his head, Vash's hair now mirroring Edy's with only two light locks at the forefront of the head. Life had been drained from him and Edy wanted to know whether it had been his choice or not.

"It's alright, Edy, it's alright, really," he murmured, holding her close. "It's over, everything's almost all over."

"Then, Knives is…" Meryl murmured from her place in the corner. She had been sitting there when Vash entered, and she stood but couldn't bring herself to move away.

"Alive. He's fine, just fine."

Edy pulled away enough to look up and read Vash's expression, confused. The truth, he was telling the truth…

"Then he's not going to go through with it?" This was Milly standing eagerly behind Edy, waiting for news.

"No, it's already been done. I told you, everything's almost over. The camp, the ships, we got rid of them; you two as well as Legato and Elendira are the only humans left on Gunsmoke."

At this announcement Edy pushed away from Vash, backing into Milly. Shocked, unsure what to say, she grabbed at her friend's hand for support as she stared in horror at the man she thought she knew, but quite obviously did not. 

"Why…"

"Knives and I had a long talk, a really, really, really long talk," Vash said, smiling with his mouth alone again. "He showed me a few things, actually explained his opinion calmly and logically for once, and I found myself agreeing with him."

An odd tingle rent through the air, causing Edy to shiver. She recognized it at once; it felt like her own power when she tapped it, pooled it together to use it. The skin upon Vash's true arm, revealed from the elbow down below rolled up sleeves, began to scale and flake; he was planning to use his angel arm. Edy didn't know exactly how she knew this, having only seen him use it once before, long ago in the cave, a burst of defensive feathers only. Vash continued to speak.

"We took care of them together; the ships tried to fly and I had to use so much of my own energy to catch them but in the end we got them all. Well, almost all of them. Edy honey, please step out of the way, you're blocking it."

Everything was gone. Right from wrong, up from down. Edy didn't understand her reality any more. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, this wasn't how it was supposed to be! Still, the power grew around her, the whole room crackling with a fierce and ominous energy. Vash really intended to kill his friends. He really planned to aim that terrible-looking gun that his arm had transformed into at them and blow them away…

"No! Vash, stop, you don't want this! Stop it! _STOP IT!!!_"

The room fell away from around her and Edy collapsed onto nothingness, sobbing. Some part of her was aware that she had at last lost it, that she had at last gone insane. Not a single image could be seen around her, no cell, no girls, no Vash. Still the energy remained, a coppery taste upon her tongue as it grew more intense, her own arm trying to react against her own will.

An arm enveloped her although she couldn't see it, paired with something smooth, soft, that tingled as it brushed against her skin, cradling her close. Wrapped in the power, these strong arms soothing her, holding her so lovingly, maybe Vash had come at last, for real this time. What had just transpired, it couldn't have been real, it just couldn't have. Vash would never, ever do the things he said he had.

"It's alright, Edy," a soft voice murmured low, calming her, "it's over now. Legato won't ever, ever touch you again, I promise."

"Legato… It was all a dream?"

"A nightmare that I could have prevented; his obedience seemed unable to override his jealousy," the low voice continued, succinct but not unkind, as if this explained it all.

"I knew you wouldn't have done any of that, Vash," Edy replied, nuzzling closer, burying her head in the still unseen chest as she ignored the uncharacteristic turn of phrase Vash employed. The energy still swirled around her but she no longer cared, she felt safe at last within it. "I also knew you'd come for me. It couldn't have been just meaningless pillow-talk, all those promises to never let me suffer any more, to never let anyone hurt me."

"Pillow-talk…" 

Knives couldn't keep that last whisper to himself as he sat there in Edy's cell, holding her tightly to his chest and trying his hardest not to absorb her; his body writhed with the intensity of so many plants taken into himself over the past week, seeking more like itself to draw in. His left arm no longer appeared to be an arm, all blades wrapped protectively beneath cloth. 

__

Pillow-talk… 

A whimper escaped as the realization hit him, cut him cleaner and deeper than his own knives could. Edy and Vash… They… 

__

"No!" Knives thought, violently refusing to accept the obvious truth and desperately trying to rid his eyes of these aberrant tears. "_She has to remain with me; I will save her, show her the error of her thoughts and emotions, that she belongs at my side, not his… Mine…"_

Gently helping her up to her feet, holding Edy tightly to his side with his one good arm, Knives led her out of the cell. Edy still could not see a single thing, her mind refusing to let her see even one more disturbing image, but she trusted in this unseen angel that held her tight, the one she thought to be Vash.

Stepping over the fallen figure of one Legato Bluesummers, Edy unaware that the psychic monster lay there in his tube and an ever-growing puddle of blood, Knives all too aware of the traitor's prostate body, the pair disappeared into the darkness of a long and winding hall.


	31. Withdrawal

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Myshkin: Much apologies for the delays between chapters! Naturally, since I'm so close to the end these things just seem to get harder to write. That, and summer school's kicking my ass. ^_^ I finally realized why everyone thought I was crazy when I told them I'd be taking eight hours this summer.

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Thirty-One

Withdrawal

He grew accustomed to moving about without the crutches for short periods of time, thanks to the "aid" of his fellow plants. As Knives guided Edy down the long corridor into the bowels of the airship, though, he realized just how short that period of time was; pain shot up his shins with every heavy, slow, resounding step, causing his teeth to grind and his body to stiffen in its movements. Edy just had to walk so damn slow…

Gazing upon the woman at his side his brow furrowed in frustration and confusion. Her eyes were open but they seemed to see nothing before her; she also clung so tightly to him that she obviously still believed him to be Vash. 

Pillow talk… it could have been a joke. She had such a wry sense of humor that wasn't afraid to dip below the belt. Knives tried fervently to convince himself that this flimsy excuse was the truth. Still, things would change shortly once they reached their destination. The plants would help another of their siblings, a sentient sister, if Knives so commanded. 

And command he would.

At last they reached their destination, the pair pausing before a giant, thick metal door, one reaching forward to open it and one shrinking back, confused that they had stopped and surprised by the sudden movement of the other. Knives ignored her and within moments the door swung open to reveal a cavernous room, the ceiling disappearing into the darkness above and a grating made of wide beams acting as the floor below. Beneath the grating writhed a great mass of pale flesh, plants melding and unmelding with each other as they swarmed below; this place acted as their new home outside of the bulb, where Knives could reach each and every one of them at a moments call willing them to his aid.

Wordlessly he strode forward, letting go of Edy. The sudden loss of contact mixed with the overwhelming sensation of the plants surrounding her from below made her back up, attempting to find the door in her darkness. Fear coursed through Edy like a fever, causing her to break out into a sweat, her limbs shaking uncontrollably. She didn't like this feeling, like something wanted to touch her, to turn her insides out to the world. Vash had left her side, but a sneaking vine of doubt curled itself about her, telling her that everything was wrong and that _wasn't Vash_. 

A bare foot landed on the edge of a beam, slipping of it into nothingness. Franticly she fell to her knees, fingers scrabbling at smooth metal, gaining no purchase. In a flash all sense of solidness had disappeared and Edy could tell whatever that _thing_ was that pulsed and flowed below her, that she could feel even without seeing, it would swallow her whole.

As suddenly as her descent began it ended in a blinding flash of light. Sight returned in all its blazing glory as something indescribable touched her back, her legs, her arms, with feather light caresses. The brilliance of being able to see once more seemed useless though; all Edy could see around her as she slowly twisted her head side to side was white, pure white. It felt like she was in a dream, floating there in this pure nothingness, all her pain, fear, and sorrow ebbing away. For once in her entire life, she felt whole, truly, physically whole.

Closing her eyes Edy breathed in, each breath feeling like something new and wonderful entered her body along with it. Instead of falling now she was flying, soaring higher than any substance could ever take a person. Every inch of her body, every pint of her blood throbbed with this new life. This could last forever and Edy would have no qualms about it. Memories of Isaiah, Vash, Wolfwood, Knives, the house, her life, it all seemed so inconsequential and far away.

Then, as violently as a baby is ripped from its mother's womb, Edy was dragged out of the bliss and into the cold, harsh, terrible world once more. Gasping for breath and sobbing from the shock, Edy found herself back upon the girders once more.

__

It hurts, oh god, it hurts so bad!

Huddled there, resting on her hands and knees with her forehead pressing into the cool metal, Edy screamed in pain, a low, throaty, roar of frustration and surprise. Nothing seemed right, her vision a jumble of shapes and shades and the very touch of the air within her lungs as sharp as Knives' blades. Her limbs ached from a strain like no other, as if she had ran a thousand miles; they held her up only for so long before she collapsed face first into a pile on the beam. Everything, life, living, it now felt so sharp and so heavy at the same time. Conscious, cohesive thought was too far beyond her reach at that moment; Edy just wanted to die.

Knives stood there passively, expecting as much. It was the first time she had absorbed any plants and even with Knives' help a dozen were more than enough for her to handle in one go. He had caused quite a ruckus himself after his first absorption and knew she would be coherent enough to talk like a civilized plant soon enough. For a fleeting moment, though, the urge to sooth her stole over him again. Unlike back in Edy's cell, though, he knew this pain would come and anticipated it; he was able this time to steel himself, to resist the temptation to touch her, to hold her. The shock of finding the one he thought to be most loyal slowly driving her insane had made him do two irrational things: one, kill Legato and two, coddle Edy like an infant instead of the adult he knew she was. She did not need that condescension at the moment of glory when she began to transcend her average plant state and Knives had no plans in giving it to her.

Edy cried and screamed for an hour before her voice gave out and all she could do was lay there and whimper; no pain in her life had ever cut her this deep, renting her violently from the whole she had been a part of for so short and yet so glorious a time.

* * * * *

"You sniveling, pathetic, excuse of a cognizant being."

Her first words, neither soft nor indistinct. They were sharp, cold, like her existence when she crashed down from that high. Knives sat there (long before he gave in to his nagging legs and allowed himself this minor comfort), staring at her, explaining what he had been up to since they boarded the ship and he left her to her own devices, how he found Legato and destroyed him for what he was doing to her, and especially what happened when he caught her as she fell; he started the absorption process for her almost the same instant he laid his hand upon her flesh. 

He of course didn't tell her that he almost couldn't resist the pull of her own power and that he hadn't meant to force that many upon her so soon; his control had been shaken by the driving need to leave Edy separate from himself. Eyes averted throughout the whole explanation, body now resting in a kneeling position with hands limp in her lap, Knives had no clue whether or not Edy had been listening at all, assuming that she had not. Then she spoke those charming words.

Unsure how to respond, Knives remained silent. Edy refused to look at him so all Knives could do was stare at that dipped head, still so frighteningly black. She felt more powerful now, his blades throbbing in reaction to her proximity. Knives coughed slightly and spoke at last after five minutes of tense silence.

"I really don't understand why you feel this way, Edy. I healed you, made you stronger. You should thank me."

"Thank you for what? For completely fucking up my life?"

Her head snapped up with that and Knives passively noted that the right side of her face had begun to crackle and feather out, much like Vash's had when his transformations were that strong. The change of feathers faded to hair in an odd, seamless fashion. Two brilliant blue eyes bore into his own.

"How did I mess up your life?"

"Hmm… Well, let's see, first you tried to kill both me and my little brother when all we wanted to do was help you. Then you became a parasitic lodger who made no attempt to treat my endless hospitality and kindness with anything resembling respect. Oh yes, we can't forget that you have this odd need to destroy the human race, a fact that has made both your brother's life and my own more stressful than ever imagined. Then, of course, you have the audacity to kidnap Isaiah and myself as well as separate us from each other. That's not the best of it, though, oh no; your demonic "pet" decides to takes it upon himself to torture me for some peculiar reason. And just now you force me against my will to… to… I don't even know exactly what the hell you just did to me, but I've got twelve new voices pricking at the back of my mind at this very moment and one hell of a migraine just from existing."

"You're over reacting."

"No, I'm over-simplifying. Do you want me to go into further detail?"

"Edy, I never wanted to hurt you," Knives said, his voice at last softening from his cold, clinical tone. "Everything I've done I felt was the right action at the time. In aiding you in absorbing the plants I've made your body stronger, more resistant to the deterioration it should not be suffering from. I just did not want you to leave me sooner than I wish."

The feathers upon her temple bristled slightly at this.

"Sooner than you wish? What about me, don't I get any say in the matter of _my_ life? Or are you now going to make all the decisions for me? What is it that you like so much about me that you want to keep me around, my mind? My body? The fact that I'm a female plant? 

"Ah… I see how it is; it's finally dawned on me. You want to start a little master race right here, right now. Aside from the fact that I will never touch you ever again and will loathe even the sight of you, could _you _ever forgive _yourself _for screwing a human? That's exactly what you would be doing."

"What… what are you talking about," Knives asked, his voice and resolve shaken ever so slightly. "You're a plant."

"Half of me is but half of me isn't. Didn't I ever tell you daddy was just a salt-of-the-earth plant worker? Whoops, sorry, my bad!"

Sarcasm dripped from Edy's words as she spat them at him, blending with bitterness that coated Knives in a sticky wave of sickness. He didn't understand, was she lying to get him to push her away? Was she telling the truth? 

"Fuck this, I'm going to go find Isaiah," Edy spat. "If you stop me, I'll kill you or die trying."

With that, Edy stood and marched out, no longer wavering in her steps or words.


	32. Snap

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Thirty-Two

Snap

"Finally, a place that _hasn't_ been looted!"

Vash gathered bottled drinks and stale bread off of the cool, dry shelves of the root cellar, rationalizing the theft with the whole "finders keepers" motto that drove their entire scavenging lifestyle of the past week or so. He and the girls had been wandering for days and all were starving, parched, exhausted, and hotter than Hell. Following Knives' trail, they had yet to come upon a store, restaurant, or saloon that hadn't been stripped clean by the former residents as they left for the camp and the ships. Granted, this find wasn't the finest of culinary delights, but it would more than certainly do in light of their current circumstances. 

Roscoe agreed, trying to cause Vash to trip and give up the goods; the huge dog had turned out to be an asset on the trip, as well as a good companion, despite Meryl's objections. He kept the less-than-human scavengers (and the human scavengers too if there had been any left to come across) at bay and could sniff out provisions in a whit's span of time. Besides, bringing him along kept Milly from crying her big, soft heart out when she thought they were going to leave the dog behind.

"Hey girls, look what your provider has discovered! Who's a manlier man, hunter, person-thingy than I? No one! That's right…"

Vash's goofy ramble that echoed up the stairs before him cut short when he popped back up on the brightly lit first floor. Meryl's stern gaze and a finger across her shooshing lips caused him to drop silently into the closest chair; why the petit woman sat so close to the crackling, buzzing satellite and wanted him to be silent, Vash had no clue. Unscrewing a bottle top and taking a big swig of the beer in hand, Vash alternated munching, drinking, chucking pieces of bread at Roscoe so he could catch them out of the air, and staring at the former Insurance Girl.

The door from the main room to the kitchen swung open to reveal a sweaty but smiling Milly, who was preemptively shushed by Meryl before the girl could get even a phoneme out. Cocking her head to the side and fixing her attention on Vash with a puzzled expression written across her face, he could only reply with a shrug and tossed both a beer and a hunk of bread to the tall woman. Milly jumped up onto the high counter not far from Meryl and joined Vash in this very dull form of entertainment; it had been a long two weeks in the deserted wasteland, so probably drying paint would be just as suitable as Meryl-watching at the moment. The only eyes in the room that weren't trained on the petit and profusely sweating woman had more important business keeping their owner from impatiently biting Vash's generous hand; all Roscoe really cared about was that the man kept the chewy yet satisfying morsels coming.

At last Meryl looked up at the two, and blushing furiously, turned off the dying satellite; the words of whomever had been broadcasting across the airwaves had been so faint that Vash and Milly could only make out a faint buzzing. Expectantly they sat forward in their seats, eagerly awaiting the news that they knew Meryl was just dying to impart to them.

"The ships are leaving in a week."

"So soon," Vash asked, confused. "But we haven't found them yet."

"I know, Vash," Meryl sighed, gently pinching the bridge of her nose and avoiding eye contact, "but the camp is five days away from here. We have basically no chance to find them and get there before lift-off."

"No."

"No what, Vash…"

"No, we won't leave them," he snapped, his voice breaking at the thought, "we can't leave them in his hands! I can't just abandon them like that!"

"Vash, we have no choice. Do you want to be stranded on this hell-hole until we die of thirst or starvation or we get eaten by a rabid sand worm or a crazed Ravager? Here's our chance for a normal life, for your chance at a normal life."

"Meryl…"

The last voice was Milly's, barely above a whisper. Vash had jumped to his feet during the discussion, his shoulders hunched tight and his fists clenched. He couldn't speak, appalled by Meryl's lack of concern for Edy or Isaiah. Besides, if he didn't find and stop Knives, no one would be leaving the planet any time soon. Taking a deep breath and relaxing his posture ever so slightly, Vash found words once more.

"I don't want a normal life, I want the life I had before Knives' freak show came back into town! I want a house and a job and a family, our family. If that's here, then so be it, but I can't forsake the ones that I love and… and need."

"Then this is where we part ways, Vash. I've dreamt all my life of somewhere else than here and I won't throw away my chance at that just so I can go rescue your girlfriend and beg your _fucking psycho brother not to kill the god-damn SPIDERS!_"

The fury and volume of Meryl's voice rose to astronomical proportions before the rant ended abruptly. Silence fell after she finished, no one speaking; Vash looked like he had been slapped, the blow effectively deflating his anger. Slumping down in his chair and picking up another beer, he opened it and chugged it half-heartedly, unable to bring himself to look at Meryl. Milly was near tears. Roscoe laid his head in Vash's lap, looking for scratches behind the ear, an action mistook by Vash as solace from the huge mutt. No one spoke for a few minutes.

"Put yourself in my shoes for once Meryl…"

"Oh no," she interrupted, still furious, "don't give me that crap. I've been putting myself in your shoes, trying to think the way you do, since I first met you. I've chased you all over this god-forsaken planet, working my ass off to understand why you adhere to this shit-for-balls philosophy that, while it is wonderful in theory, can never work in this life, especially in a life that has a crazy brother like yours running willy-nilly in it."

"Meryl…" Milly tried to beg.

"No Milly, I'm tired. I'm tired of all of this. I love you Vash and I've done everything I could to make you happy and keep you alive. Milly too. She would die for you, for me, for Wolfwood, even for Edy, Isaiah, and their fucking _dog_ too if we would just ask it of her. Do you even acknowledge this once? Do you even ask us if we want to run across this planet heading _away_ from salvation, away from peace, away from what we want for once? No, you don't. You're so wrapped up in your self-pity, your guilt, your fucking pariah-dom, that you don't even stop to say 'thanks' or 'what would you girls like to do this time.'"

"That's not true Meryl and you know it," Milly shouted at last, ceasing Meryl's tirade. "Mr. Vash is nothing like that at all; if anyone's being selfish, it's you!"

"Milly…"

"No," the tall girl riled up, angry tears splashing down her cheeks. Rarely had either seen her so worked up; it was quite sobering. "You go on, go to the camp, get on your precious ships and live your precious life on your precious Earth! I'm going with Vash, not because he's forcing me to but because that's what I want and that's what I choose to do!"

Meryl, dumbfounded, turned and stalked out of the room. Before the front door slammed behind her, though, she called out once more.

"You know, Knives probably heard the news and is heading towards the camp and the ships as we speak."

With a resounding bang, Meryl left the building. Roscoe stood at the door, tail half wagging as he looked imploringly from the remaining humans towards the place the other one went through; he wanted to go too, gosh darn it.

"You know, she's probably right about Knives going to the ships," Milly murmured between sniffles in the sudden quiet.

"Shit…" Vash muttered in reply. "Meryl, wait up!"

"She may be right, but she better apologize to you first, Mr. Vash, or I'm not going," Milly added as she followed close behind. "Monthly visitor or not, that's no excuse for being so rude!"

The only response Vash had to that was a brilliant blush rapidly over-taking his features. 

* * * * *

Myshkin: Heh, Meryl's on her rag. Jeez, the worst place in existence that I could think of to have to deal with one's period would be Gunsmoke. Scratch that, the Ninth Circle of Hell's probably the worst. Still, ouch all around for the crew. Oh yeah, sorry so short. More to come soon. We've got to wrap this baby up, and quick; the suspense is killing me!


	33. Anger and Madness

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Myshkin: To those who are still with me, much love. I can't apologize enough for the serious lag time between updates.

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Thirty-Three

Anger and Madness

The little missus was pissed.

Watching her, following closely in the shadows, Elendira made note of the fact that not only was the female plant extremely, extremely irritated about something but that she'd had a little "boost" from Knives and Company. The girl crackled as she strode past, unaware of impassive eyes trailing her moves; the only thing Edy could sense right then were the niggling new voices telling her where little brother was currently being held.

"Damn," murmured the transvestite, slipping away to find Master Knives and to get things under control once more. 

No need for another rogue plant wreaking havoc on the ship; one was more than enough.

* * * * *

Things had been silent in that heavy, uncomfortable way since they left the town. Bumping along the barren landscape in the requisitioned jeep and siphoned gas found at their last stop, no one knew what to say to each other without starting a whole other row. Meryl fumed, Milly fumed, Vash thought, and Roscoe enjoyed the wind in his jowls. It had nearly been twenty-four hours since anyone spoke and the moons had long since risen overhead.

Deep within his mind Vash considered Meryl's words. She was right, really. He hated himself for it and knew not how he could reconcile what seemed to be their mortally wounded friendship. All he had done was take and take from everyone, hardly giving in return. Well, that wasn't exactly true, he had given plenty of himself in return but it wasn't what they needed or wanted. Quite frankly, the true bits of himself and his past that he had let out from the dark places inside him scared them. Hell, they even scared him sometimes. Most of the time.

Meryl didn't exactly stand alone as the perfect martyr though, all bathed in silver, sorrowful light with angels of mercy weeping about her feet. She jumped to conclusions, had a nasty temper, and ran when the going got tough. It never ceased to amaze Vash that she even wanted to see him again after the confrontation between Zazie the Beast, Hoppard the Gauntlet, Midvalley the Hornfreak, Legato, and Elendira the Crimsonnail; he had lost control of his powers and himself and nearly crushed Meryl beneath the weight of his berserk angel arm. Granted she disappeared for a long while with neither word, nor hide, nor hair to be found of her, but Meryl did eventually return and had made her peace with what he was and what he was capable of doing. So perhaps she was just human. Things like that take a while to process, to deal with; trauma takes a while to assimilate into the heart and the wounds of the soul to heal. Vash knew that lesson all too well.

Still, Vash had no clue how to be the man that Meryl wanted him to be and that frustrated him. It also frustrated him that he was so ready to comply to one person's wishes and change himself to suit them, just as long as they were happy. He only wanted Meryl to be happy; she deserved it so much. If Edy would have asked to change himself for her, to make her content, he would in a heart beat. Edy never asked this of him, though. 

Did that make Edy better or just more tolerant? Vash had been selfish and Meryl had been jealous but he could see now how all along, before Edy even came into their lives, he had been so centered on himself and what he wanted. Vash wanted to follow his own path and find his own redemption and accidentally found some friends along the way. True friends too, ones that got under his skin and itched a little. Itched a lot. And wouldn't let go, no matter how long he held the match's searing head to them.

And now one of these friends had at last rejected him, heart-broken and at her wits end.

How could he say she was in the right without completely giving in? He refused to give in so completely, for once being stubborn and knowing that as wrong as he was, so was she. Sighing, Vash glanced over at the tiny woman behind the wheel, awash in the moonlight. How so much smaller she looked tonight.

It was all his fault and yet he had nothing to say for himself.

* * * * *

At last it had happened. He had given up. Curling himself into a tiny ball upon the cot, shielding his face from the mournful, puppy-dog eyes of that poor, pathetic, little boy-man, he retreated inside and vowed never to return. The world hurt to much, the things he wouldn't allow his mind's eye to see and know pounding at the walls of his sanctuary. God, he was so tired; all he wanted to do was sleep until the end of time, his time. He hoped it would be soon.

Darkness surrounded him as he reveled in the barren landscape that now surrounded him. Nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing to fear. No monsters here, just a world he could fashion as his own and stay forever, safe and happy.

Here in this world, his world, stood a house, standing two stories tall with brightly lit windows and a huge porch that enveloped it within its arms. Music and laughter spilled through the open door, trailing the brilliant lamplight across the worn boards and down the steps to his feet. Smiling, he made his way home.

* * * * *

__

Turn left here, dear, one voice instructed Edy, its tones kind and motherly. _The third door on the left is Isaiah's._

How do you where he is, Edy asked all the voices in general, perplexed.

__

He's one of ours, another answered in an even voice. _All plants are connected, even those that are free of the bulb; sentient plants are unable to feel those ties unless under extreme duress or concentration but that does not mean they are floating about this life unattached. We all try to keep an eye on them, know what they are up to._

Can you… read our minds?

__

With the others, the full plants, in essence we can. With you little one, it's different, the first voice answered. _We could never truly know you like we know the others. The connection is weak, having been passed down from your mother instead of being forged directly with you, so mostly we can sense your emotions when they flare and from time to time dream along with you._

"Hn. That doesn't make me fell any better, somehow," Edy murmured out loud to the locked door before her. Another thought came to mind. "What about Knives, though? He didn't seem to know any more about us than I expected he would but here you are helping me out."

__

Knives is a prick, one answered, clipped and matter-of-fact. A few voices twittered reservedly, but the first voice (who seemed to be alpha among the others, if there was such a thing) chided them for their rudeness.

__

Most of us disapprove of what he plans to do and what he has done in the past, it explained. _Few help him beyond what he directly asks of us; in some ways sentient plants are weaker than their bulb counter-parts but in other ways they are impossible to refuse. _

"Umm…"

Don't worry, little one, it's a bit confusing for us too. There are things in our world that even we can't explain fully or have to ability to convey to others.

Enough chatter, one cut in, _let's get Isaiah and get the hell out of here._

Repeating the sequence of numbers the plants told her (thanks to Knives' mental bank of information, easily tapped by one of the less morally upright individuals), the lock released and the door slid open to reveal a spartan cell much like her own, but with far less bedding. There on the cot lay a comatose man garbed in dull gray, curled in upon himself; at first glance Edy thought he was dead, his breathing so slow and deep. This man failed to keep her attention as the voice clamored their greetings to Isaiah who, after a moment of shock, leapt to his feet and launched himself at his sister.

"Oh Isaiah, sweetie, honey, are you alright," Edy exclaimed, too many words trying to fight their way out at the same time. Clutching him tightly to her, Isaiah let go a flood of tears that he didn't know he had in him still; all the fear, the sorrow, the confusion, everything came pouring out down his cheeks, soaking into his sister's shirt. He didn't know what to make of the change that had come over his sister or her feathered cheek but it failed to matter at the moment. Edy was here. Edy would fix things. 

For what seemed like hours, but in reality only lasted minutes, they sat there clinging desperately to each other. To Edy, Isaiah had never looked as young has he did then. So much had happened, things that should never happen to anyone, and this caused resentment to well up within her, drowning out the voices and the urgent message they seemed to need to convey. It wasn't fair that her brother had to suffer like this; like any guardian, all Edy wanted to give him was as happy and normal a life as she possibly could but someone decided to throw a wrench betwixt those cogs. She cursed the heavens and for the terrible unfairness of it all but settled upon exacting vengeance from the most tangible scapegoat: Knives.

__

In good time, little one, in good time, a voice interrupted, finally breaking through the rambling barrier of anger. _First see to your friend before he's gone for good._

Friend? What are you talking about?

The one that Isaiah mourns for, in his heart. Wolfwood, is it?

Edy's head snapped up and around so quick that she almost tore something. The man on the cot…

"Isaiah, what happened to Nicholas," she asked her voice quaking. "What's wrong with Nicholas?"

__

Settle down honey. Hope's not lost yet, not while we're here to guide you.

Please help me, she pled, _help me help him…_

__

Sure thing, just breathe first before you pass out.

* * * * *

Dinner had been delicious; wiping his mouth on his napkin and folding it upon the tabletop, he rose to retrieve a glass of wine from the kitchen. People milled about, chatting, laughing, having a great time. A bright tune sounded from the other room, all strings, reeds, and spirit, and men grabbed their ladies about the waist, dragging them to the band and the makeshift dance floor in the library. Laughing at their joy, the gaiety infectious, he stood amiably amid the swishing skirts and gesturing hands, listening to all and hearing nothing but emotions, looking at all but seeing nothing more than colors. 

It concerned him not that he could only discern features of the jovial faces out of the corners of his eyes, like catching a glimpse of the elusive shadows that dance away as soon as the wind tickles the branches of a tree. He also didn't care that no true words were formed by the people, just intense and shifting rumblings of a crowd that ebbed and flowed. Nothing mattered really because for all he cared or knew right now this was how it had always been and this was how he wanted it to stay.

Dark, heady wine caught in his throat for moment as he choked, surprised to see across the room a face looking square at him. It failed to shift away or blur from his sight. Revealed to him was a woman with deep black hair, dark except for about her round face where it hung drenched in a dazzling gold, framing brilliant blue eyes and an unnerving stare. 

Suddenly, as if it took her a moment to realize where she was, the woman blinked and then broke into a wide grin. Hastily she pushed through the mass of people and threw her arms around him. As soon as she touched him, a barrage of voices pummeled his ears, filling them with complete phrases; the intensity of the words made it impossible for him to discern whether he heard them inside or outside his head.

__

Be careful dear,one warned softly, with a voice like warm milk. _You've made it inside but the hardest task is to come._

Nicholas, exclaimed the woman (he felt it was her voice because her lips moved and for some reason he knew it fit her face), _oh God, am I glad to see you!_

Too close! Too close, another chirped heatedly. _Your minds are too close and he can hear everything we tell you!_

Edwina was never this careless with such delicate things; it's like her girl's all thumbs!

I've come to heal you, make you better again, the woman babbled, talking again. _Isaiah was so upset, he told me everything he knew and what he could guess. Shit, Nicholas, how could anyone torture another like this? I'm going to kill Elendira and Knives just as soon as we have our Nicholas back safe and sound. I…_

Aren't you listening Edy?! Let go of the man before he retreats even further and takes you with him!

What are you talking about, asked the woman of the other voices, apparently called Edy since she answered to the name. _Retreat?_

Just let go and we'll explain! Jesus Christ, look how you're scaring the poor man!

Shaking, wide-eyed, and unsure what to do, he had remained stiff in her arms during the entire ordeal. Pulling away, Edy looked down, either ashamed, thinking, or listening to something he could no longer hear (although he was pretty sure he had heard all those voices moments before). What the hell was going on here? 

Glancing up and into his eyes, the woman simpered apologetically and murmured a "sorry Nicholas" that only he could hear above the noisy crowd. He didn't know who Nicholas was and he didn't want to accept this woman's apology. For some reason he felt like she trespassed and didn't belong here; he wanted her out, and fast. 

"Get out," he murmured, barely choking out the words.

With that she flew across the room, crashing first into the far wall and then to the floor, raining books upon her huddled form. None of the other people took any notice of what just occurred; in fact, not a single body had been taken down with her in her flight. It was as if Edy had passed right through them like a hand through smoke. Groaning, the woman pulled herself up to an upright position, confusion and discontent flashing in those striking eyes.

__

I told you that she was being to careless, but did anyone listen to me?

Yes, Alpha Voice sighed, _we all heard exactly what you said._

Right, but she didn't. Look at this mess she's making of it all! Kids these days…

Oh hush.

__


	34. End

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Trigun, so don't sue me please, thank you!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter Thirty-Four

End

For the past week, Knives tried his hardest to remain separate from Edy and her affairs to show her that he respected her, her "space", and the rage she directed at him. It had been difficult not to run after her and either beg forgiveness for his sins or voraciously defend his actions. It had been impossible to not ponder why she had yet to take Isaiah and leave the airship.

Although Knives had the self-control to keep himself in his quarters as they traveled to the camp, he broke down and insisted Elendira monitor the situation below. Little remained for the last surviving Gung-Ho Gun to do until the destruction of the humans on Gunsmoke, aside from piloting a rather self-sufficient air ship, of course. With all that time on his hands, it seemed best put to use serving Knives and his obsessive personality. So Elendira watched and returned to Knives' side to relay what went on beneath him in bored, disdainful tones that Knives either couldn't or wouldn't validate.

Now, seven days later, she had yet to desert them and even appeared to have slipped into a coma, her hands gently gripping the temples of the comatose preacher human, thumbs resting over his pulse points. The plants refused to tell him anything about what occurred in her mind with the other absorbed ones, blocking him out as best as they could given the circumstances. The silence and refusal to serve was disquieting but he figured all along they would side with her; everyone sided with wonderful little Edy, the most perfect little half-plant freak. 

God, that thought disgusted him! Still, what bothered him more than her obscene, bestial roots was the fact that he couldn't seem to destroy this weird fascination he had for her. As much as he wanted no more to do with her, his brother, or anyone connected to the two disgusting love-birds, he couldn't help but remain attached to them, if only through pain. Thoughts of either of them stabbed deep and twisted, an unpleasant sensation that he thought he did away with until some reminder of their failed relations returned to him, making him want to vomit. To avoid this he flung himself deeper into the embrace of the absorbed plants and their power, only to find himself slipping through their limp, uncaring fingers.

Despite the quiet, their power intoxicated and distracted him; time here with the humans drew to a close and all the power of his siblings had sent him into a drugged state, not unlike a frightening and wonderful trip. No siblings remained upon the planet, nestled in their bulbs. They were all either within him or upon the ships, all necessary sacrifices. Soon they would help him destroy their former masters and Knives could focus on more important things.

* * * * * 

They stood, staring across the crowd at each other, one ready to fight, the other unable to figure out what to do. Edy had no clue how long they existed there, how time worked in Nicholas's mind.

__

Edy, didn't your mother ever teach you about anything about healing the mind?

No, Edy spat back in a mental reply_, she killed herself too soon to tell me all her precious secrets._

__

Try to remind him of the good things in real life, remind him of the things Nicholas has reason to live for.

Edy shook her head to silence the voices, forgetting that they couldn't see her physical actions. She wasn't her mother, she had no idea how to do what they said. Every time she tried to open her mouth, violence flashed in Nicholas' gray eyes like the lightning that danced above a sand storm. 

"Nicholas, what about Vash, Milly, Meryl, Isaiah…" she stuttered, trying to force the words out quickly before the blow landed that she knew would follow, the one that flattened her upon the floor once more. Before she could disentangle herself from the sharp pile of books, she felt her body lifted and shoved through the wall, out into the darkness.

Dust and pages fluttered to rest about Edy as she quivered in the puddle of light and wreckage, coughing violently. Blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth as well as her back, which had led the exit from the house, staining her pale form as brilliant a shade as the figures inside. No one loomed in the hole above her, staring down to see why this woman has been forced to choose such an unconventional way to leave the party. 

No one in _this_ world cared if she lived or died; Edy shivered at the abject loneliness.

Struggling to stand and not to cry, Edy gave up and hobbled away from the house, determined to find a way out. This was beyond her; fatigue plagued Edy, sapping her will to think any more and replacing it with only the want of sleep. All of her energy seemed to slowly drain from her limbs.

A sudden memory flashing across her mind caused her to pause, blinded for a moment. The pictures, the ones that Nicholas had taken with him when he disappeared, they had to be here somewhere. Whether he wanted to remember them or not, Edy knew that the photos probably had been imprinted on his mind; she doubted he even needed to look at them near the end, before all _this_ happened, to recall the smiling faces developed on those seemingly insignificant slips of paper. Maybe if she found those then she could do something. At least it was a start.

__

Good girl, now you're using your brain.

* * * * * 

After three days of silence and no movement, Isaiah had enough and left the cell. He couldn't sit there any more, just watching. All this time he had done nothing, had been completely useless to everyone. Isaiah needed to change that.

The insides of the air ship sprawled about him like a jumbled mass of metallic organs; Isaiah had no idea where to head first but he knew whom he had to find. Setting out, his feet clanging ominously on the grated walkways, Isaiah tried to gather his bearings. If he were Knives, where would he be?

Isaiah wandered, climbing stairways, traversing dark passageways, walking for maybe an hour with no success. Tired and scared, realizing he had no idea how to find Edy again, Isaiah slumped down to the floor, resting against a wall while trying to scrub away the impending tears with the back of his grubby hand.

Time passed but Isaiah was immobilized with fear and had no way to make good use of it. Darkness surrounded him, pressing in on his tiny body; Isaiah could see absolutely nothing but the monsters his brain conjured up to keep him company in the pitch black. He tried to whistle, to sing, even just to talk to himself to keep the terror from consuming him, but his voice cracked and gave way in the middle of every attempt. Luckily, hunger set in and the gurgling of his stomach cut the heavy silence like a hot knife through butter. 

A sudden burst of light enveloped him as he fell backwards, the ringing of the pain that erupted behind his eyes and the voice of God enveloping; it had to be God, he figured, because there was no way he could be alive any longer.

"Well, this is interesting."

__

Huh, God sounded kind of like a really pissed Elendira…

* * * * *

"They aren't here yet," Milly murmured to herself, watching the horizon as they approached the ships; neither Vash nor Meryl had anything to say in reply.

The week had passed as time is wont to do. Having reached the camp with two days to spare before launch, they had given the authorities plenty of time to run an assortment of embarrassingly personal tests on both their body and their mind. The people from Earth had to ensure that no one brought on board a fatal, communicable disease or homicidal tendencies, for the safety of all of course. 

When not with the physicians or the psychiatrists Vash laid low in their assigned tent for fear of meeting up once more with old "acquaintances" that would give away his true identity. Although he couldn't know for sure, Vash doubted his reputation would do anything but impede his boarding of the ships; while a part of him wished this to happen, the part that centered around thoughts of those he abandoned, the rest of him only wished to escape this dry, terribly spacious prison cell. Meryl avoided Vash at all costs and Milly was torn between the two, deciding to keep company with Roscoe instead.

When at last the day came that the ships would launch and everyone gathered like cattle about the numerous ramps, the absentee members of their party were no where to be found. Standing together in a miserable, tensely silent clump and awaiting their turn to board, no one dared speak of this worry until at last Milly voiced their anxiety in her plain words. Vash gnawed on his lip as he ran through his mind possible ways Knives would attack the ships. Meryl joined her friend in scanning the sky for any sign of the air ship.

All of a sudden, Vash felt it; a tiny niggling of disquiet in the back of his mind blossoming into full panic. Knives was nearby and he had begun to unsheathe his blades.

"He's here," he murmured to himself. Turning, he hurried shot out an order Milly and Meryl. "Girls, get on the ship and stay there; I'll try to meet you later if I can, but don't hold your breath."

With that, Vash the Stampede disappeared into the crowds, heading away from the ships.

* * * * *

__

They have_ to be in here somewhere_, Edy thought to herself. Piles of things surrounded her as she pulled more and more items out the chest of drawers in the back bedroom, the one Nicholas and Vash shared when they both lived under her roof. Realization that Nicholas' inner sanctuary resembled her house in February hit her once all the people disappeared; upon re-entering the place, not a soul could be seen, silence haunting her loud footsteps.

Edy tried not to examine very closely the things she pulled out of the drawers; the first couple of things frightened her, terrible figurines that cruelly mimicked a man with three arms and another in a vicious-looking wheel-chair. Neither had their heads so the faces her imagination placed above these plastic necks only added to her discomfort. From there on out she blindly discarded anything that wasn't on paper.

It had been a long search and Edy's entire body cried out in protest with every move she made. No chest of drawers could hold this much stuff in the real world but here in Nicholas' mind, exact time and space didn't seem quite so important. Wiping the back of her hand across her brow, relieving her of only some of the annoying, trickling, little paths of sweat, Edy paused in her almost constant shoveling of Nicholas' memories out of their hiding place. There, wedge between a tin canister and some oily rags were several slips of heavy paper, all about photograph size. Tenderly, she pulled them from their resting place and turned them over to reveal her own face and that of a grumpy Isaiah staring back. 

Flip.

One of her and Vash together, arms stiffly around each other, nervous grins plastered upon their faces and happy light within their eyes.

Flip.

A candid of Meryl, Milly, and Isaiah attempting to wash Roscoe, who was in turn bathing them to his playful, mischevious delight.

Flip.

Vash and he in front of the _Prancing Thomas_, dressed for work in their clean, nice outfits.

Flip.

Milly alone, smiling, standing on the back porch and facing out to the world while her head turned back towards the camera.

Flip…

"I told you to leave," Edy heard Nicholas say from behind. He sounded tired and frustrated.

"No," she replied, turning with the photos clutched to her chest. "I just can't do that yet. You have to remember, you have to…"

"Respect my decision, Edy. Let me end my miserable, good-for-nothing life as I please."

"I won't let… You remember my name?"

"You weren't the only one to recall the photos. It took me a while to remember where I had seen your face before, but when I did I came straight here."

"Then if you remember us, if you remember all this," she gestured to the room around her, "in real life, then why won't you come back with me?"

"I will never understand why Vash or Milly or you or Isaiah ever felt I deserved anything more than a short drop and a swift stop. You've come inside, you've even brazenly pawed through my thoughts, my memories, my life, and yet you still think I'm worth having around? I betrayed you all to Knives, I abandoned you all when you needed me, my hands are drenched in so much blood that it reaches clear up to my shoulders. I'm not a good person, Edy. Earth needs no one like me. Besides, what would I even do there? What abilities do I have that could possibly aid society, support it? I'm useless and I'm even ruining your chance to leave as we speak."

Edy couldn't focus all through Wolfwood's explanation; something vying for her attention distracted her, like a gnat that found its way into her ear. When at last he grew quiet Edy figured out exactly what was wrong.

__

Edy! Get out of their now_! Knives is getting ready to destroy the ships!_

Can't you hear all the commotion? Are you deaf, girl?! All the plants are being drawn from to help him and they're not happy.

All but two, one of which he's trying to absorb right now.

What are you all talking about, Edy asked, her attention turned inwards completely.

__

Isaiah's about to return from whence he came, in a sense…

Isaiah?! Hell…

"Nicholas, any other time I'd try to work through this with you and gently guide you away from your ridiculously skewed self-image, but we're both just shit out of luck. We have to get out of here now or else Knives wins and I lose Isaiah and I'm not leaving here without you."

"But…"

"No buts. You can hate me when this is over."

With that, Edy grabbed his wrist and followed the voices' back to reality.

* * * * *

"Vash? You came back?" Knives murmured, rolling his head up to stared dazedly at the young boy before him. He sat in the center of a vast, sparsely furnished room and at the epicenter of a writhing, wriggling mass of blades. They melded into the walls before Isaiah's very eyes, the entire airship becoming one, gigantic, organic weapon.

Isaiah almost pissed himself.

Elendira watched coolly as he stood behind Isaiah, making no moves to touch him but also making it quite clear the boy had no options of retreat. It finally hit Isaiah that Knives thought he was Vash once more. If he hadn't been so terrified by the shear mass of the other plant's power he would have been annoyed. 

"Elendira, take him away. I don't want to see my brother again."

"Master Knives, this is Isaiah, not Vash," he replied, sounding annoyed enough for both himself and the boy.

No verbal reply came from Knives but a few bladed tendrils extracted themselves from the floor, slithering their way about Isaiah. A tugging sensation pulled at Isaiah and he tried to fight it but to no avail; the ring of blades drew closer around him like a snake constricting about its kill. The tug became more of a rip as the smooth surfaces touched flesh and someone screamed. Only when the door behind him slammed shut, effectively ending the absorption, did Isaiah realize it was he who screamed; he crimsoned in shame as he gasped for breath.

"Knives!" cried a familiar voice behind him, distracting the plant. A tingle, almost a burning sensation welled up within Isaiah's hands as the rest of the sensations ebbed away. It matched the rage within him. Pivoting, Isaiah saw Edy, eyes ablaze, feathers bristling, blonde no longer visible in her ebony hair. She leaned heavily upon Wolfwood, the shrunken, pale, shadowy remains of Wolfwood, who in turn leaned heavily upon her. Edy didn't continue, perhaps having nothing more to say besides wanting to gain Knives' attention.

She certainly had it. With a cruel grin, Knives turned his eyes to Edy and sent blades circling about her.

"I regret giving you that last gift, Edy. I'm going to take it back now."

Isaiah could only stare in hatred as Knives knocked Wolfwood back to the ground, the poor man unable to fight in his condition. Edy found herself unable to escape as they closed about her, sucking the plants back out against her or their will. As Isaiah watched he saw her angel arm retract, the feathers melding with her flesh once more; the burning in his hands erupted into a fire as he clenched his fingers tight against his palms. Cracks ran across the backs of his hands as his skin began to split and every ounce of energy he had inside funneled into his shaking fists. Ready to turn and strike Knives in any way he thought he could, Isaiah paused. 

Edy's arm seemed to be transforming again, although not into a mass of healing feathers this time but into something completely different. 

* * * * *

A great wind shoved Vash forcibly upon his back, the rush of hundreds, thousands of lives streaming past him. He experienced something like this once before, that occurrence followed as well by the rending of his heart in two. Vash struggled to stand beneath the weight of his sobs. 

Knowing concretely without knowing how, he knew the plants were dead and free, possibly more along with them. Knives? Isaiah? Had Wolfwood found his way to that airship?

…Edy?

"No more," he moaned into his sweat-slicked palms, shouldering quaking with emotion. "No more!"

Unsure how long he crouched there, the bitter, empty sadness of these deaths plagued him and gnawed at the bonds of his guilt until it fell free into his breast. At long last dry footsteps approached, slow and awkward, rousing him. Vash lifted his head, on guard at first, then smiling faintly, and then settling once more in a frown. He just couldn't accept life and the living right then.

* * * * *

The launch went off with hardly a hitch, only a slight hiccup in the final number of refugees boarded; all who had registered at the camp made it aboard, plus two. Considering the substantial numbers dealt with, that two would be over-looked in the masses was highly conceivable. After a quick physical the two remainders were allowed to join their companions on the ship and leave Gunsmoke behind with hardly a glance backwards.

fin.


	35. Author's Note

Author's Note to My Wonderful Readers: 

Thank you a hundred times over to everyone who stuck with me through the entire story; there was a lot of trials and tribulations along the way and [although I'm not completely happy with the results] I had a great time writing my first fic. Hope you all enjoyed reading it or tearing it to pieces. My heart to you all.

Your "prince,"

Myshkin


End file.
